


Into the Blue

by Anjou



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjou/pseuds/Anjou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s almost summer, and Logan is sinking into the blue.</p><p>
  <i>Out of the blue<br/>and into the black<br/>They give you this,<br/>but you pay for that<br/>And once you're gone,<br/>you can never come back<br/>When you're out of the blue<br/>and into the black. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>--Neil Young, Out of the Blue</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Into the Blue_ is a post S1 _Veronica Mars_ story that was written before S2 aired. My excitement at the possibility of a _Veronica Mars_ movie has led me to dust this story off, and post it here at AO3.

~*~

The flashing blue lights that suddenly strobed across Weevil’s face made his expression of surprise that much more comical to Logan, but then again, he was pretty damned drunk. Too drunk in fact, to stop himself from greeting the Deputy by saying, “Deputy, my man! C’mon up here. I’m holding a meeting of the Veronica Mars Ex-es Club.” He toasted his newfound compadre with his flask and then turned back to Weevil. “You can go now. I hereby declare this meeting of the Lilly Kane Ex-es Club permanently fucking adjourned.”

Weevil glared at him and took a step forward, but a look from the Deputy stopped him. He seethed silently, and then turned and got on his bike, following after the rest of the PCH crew who’d scattered at the first sign of the law.

“There’s just one problem,” the Deputy began.

“Then you are a very lucky man, Crockett,” Logan interrupted.

‘Crockett’ grimaced and said, “Yeah, well. I’m a lucky man with really bad vertigo, so we have to hold the meeting down here.”

That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request, so Logan bounced down from the railing.

“Are we drinking, Deputy, um, Deputy?” he asked nonsensically, offering the flask to his newfound friend. 

“Leo," the Deputy replied amiably. "And I'm thinking that you've already done my drinking for me,” but he pocketed the flask just the same. “Listen, you need to come with me.”

“Right, right,” Logan muttered. “Are you cuffing me?” 

Deputy Leo had a strange, sad expression on his face; Logan couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was. 

“No,” he said quietly. “I’ll have them tow your car home.”

“Man!” Logan said, ”Is this some kind of special perk that you get when you’re in the VMX Club? Who knew? Vee-Emm-EXXXX!” He yelled at the passing traffic. “That’s pretty good.” 

He let Leo lead him over to the cruiser, then settled into the back seat, feeling the world lurch dizzily around him when he closed his eyes. The radio was squawking constantly, but he couldn’t understand what was being said -- all the muddled, distorted voices were talking over each other, and the world was spinning around him, so he just let it all blur together for a few minutes. Then, he thought he heard someone say Veronica's name but … that was just wishful thinking. “Veronica” he said aloud, and he felt his insides clench.

“Yeah,” Deputy Leo said, and he jumped. He'd kinda forgotten about the Deputy, and the bridge. The blue light strobed through the open door as Leo handed him his car keys and his cell phone. “I couldn’t help but notice that she called.” 

Logan stared drunkenly at the screen of his cell phone. “Veronica,” he whispered, then cleared the screen. The fluorescence of the blue light against the bright yellow of his car made him nauseous and he dropped his head back, closing his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Deputy Leo said. “Are you gonna call her back?” 

Not in this fucking lifetime, he thought bitterly, but managed to choke out “Not right now.” 

“Oh.” 

The car wasn’t moving, and the radio was just a constant stream of confused letters and codes and yelling. When Logan opened his eyes again, the Deputy was staring at him, crouched down in the open door with that weird expression on his face. 

“What?” Logan said. “You want to talk to her, you call her. ‘Speak for yourself, John Alden’,” he added with a flourish. Who said those English Lit classes were a waste of time?

“Logan.” The Deputy’s voice was really fucking annoying, and now he was shaking him besides. When he opened his eyes, the flare of the blue lights was competing with new yellow flashing lights, and he could hear the whining of the tow truck that had suddenly appeared and was hooking his car up. He closed his eyes in protest, and the Deputy shook him again.

Logan opened his eyes, “Yes. Still present.” He stared at Leo, who just stared back at him with his mouth open. “What?!”

“Veronica figured out who killed Lilly Kane,” the Deputy said slowly.

Logan just stared at him.

“Did you hear me, Logan?” 

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered.

“No, Logan,” the Deputy said quietly. The blue lights were pulsing, and Logan felt the fear creep up his back because he realized that the expression on the Deputy's face was one of pity, and it had nothing at all to do with them being members of the same club. “It wasn’t you.” 

~*~

When Logan woke up, the first thing that he was conscious of was the wet sleeve sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. He must have been drooling in his sleep; his head was pillowed on his numb forearm, so the dampness had seeped into the cloth. Somehow, the idea that he'd been drooling in his sleep was more attractive than the obvious alternative for why his sleeve was wet. He moved his head further up toward his half-numb bicep and tried to stave off conversation for just a minute longer. The rustling of a newspaper and the sounds of someone shifting in a chair let him know that he wasn't alone, but he didn't want to open his eyes to see the disgust on Sheriff Lamb's face, or even worse, the pity on Deputy Leo's face, so he tried to go back to sleep. The high-pitched yelling outside the room that he'd been dimly aware of a few minutes ago started up again, and he recognized the voice with a groan.

"I really don't want to see her right now," Logan said to the unseen occupant of the room.

"As long as you're in conference with your lawyer, neither God nor the Marines can disturb us," a sonorous voice informed him.

Logan tilted his head to the side and cracked an eye open. "Cliff McCormack?"

"Indeed," his companion offered. He folded his newspaper up neatly and handed Logan a Coke and a bottle of Advil. "And you look like a man who needs this."

Logan looked at him while he thought things through. It was taking him a little bit longer than normal, owing to his pounding headache. If Cliff McCormack was here, it was a pretty sure bet that Veronica had sent him -- but he didn't want to talk about, or to, Veronica just yet. 

"Am I in custody?" Logan asked. Just outside the room, Trina asked the same question, but at a significantly louder volume.

"Protective custody, of a sort," Cliff said easily. "There's no way you're going to be able to go home without a police escort, and I imagine that our esteemed Sheriff Lamb will want to take a statement from you."

Logan stared at Cliff for a beat, then accepted the Coke. "So, I guess there's no chance that last night was just a very bad dream?"

Cliff looked back at Logan unblinkingly. "No, Logan," he said. He hesitated for just a second before he opened the newspaper and turned it over, laying it flat on the table where the banner headline screamed at him. 

**A-(List) MURDERER!  
Aaron Echolls Suspected in Murder of Young Lover**

"I'm really sorry." Cliff's radio announcer voice was sincere.

Lilly smiled up at him in black and white, next to a huge picture of Aaron at an awards ceremony. Logan lurched to the side to avoid throwing up on the table. There was an empty trashcan conveniently placed at his feet, but he could bring nothing up except bile. He could dimly recall puking his guts out on Deputy Leo's shoes hours before. 

He laid his head back down on the table and tried not to cry.

"Are they sure this is true?" he asked in angry voice. "I mean, it's not like she hasn't been wrong before."

"Logan," Cliff said, "are you aware that your parents' pool house was wired to film activities that occurred there?"

Logan just gaped up at him while the implications of that statement sank in, then spent another few minutes fruitlessly trying to heave up his intestines. 

"No," he whispered finally. He could feel the bones in his skull pounding in time with his headache. “So Lilly found the cameras and they had a confrontation?” He was too hung over to figure out how she’d gotten away from Aaron. 

“No,” Cliff said, “Veronica thinks she found the cameras and fled, taking the tapes.”

He nodded, thinking about the night he’d been with Veronica in the pool house, how he’d come back and she was just gone. A movie was beginning to unspool in his head, of Lilly in her pep uniform, clutching the tapes in her hand. Was she afraid of her secret being revealed? 

“She hid the tapes in her room,” Cliff said, and Logan laughed hollowly.

“In the air conditioning vent,” he said knowingly, and Cliff confirmed it with a nod. She hadn’t been afraid then, but was probably planning to blackmail Aaron. He’d like to believe that Lilly’s blackmail might have benefited him, that it would have been about buying him freedom, or peace from Aaron, but … he knew that was just a story he was telling himself. 

The movie rolled on in his head and he saw Lilly at the poolside, taunting his father, laughing at him. Maybe he should have told her more about his father’s rage. He always knew that Aaron had the capacity to kill; he’d always just assumed that he’d be the one on the receiving end of that beating.

He closed his eyes and turned the paper over so that wouldn't have to see Lilly's beautiful, lying face anymore and was immediately confronted with a photograph of Veronica weeping. Even in grainy black and white, she looked bruised and bloodied. She was holding onto a barely recognizable Keith Mars as he was being loaded into an ambulance.

"Veronica," he choked out.

"Is fine," Cliff said, and continued off his doubting look, "banged up, a little burned, and has some minor smoke inhalation, but is fine. She's pretty worried about you," he added.

"Aaron?" he asked, pointing at the picture of Veronica and Keith.

"Did he do that to them?" Cliff prompted. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Logan nodded wordlessly.

"Yes," Cliff said succinctly. "For the time being, he's being charged with one count of kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder."

"He tried to kill her," Logan stated, wanting it to be clarified, but wanting Cliff to contradict him far more. As usual, he was disappointed.

"Yes," Cliff said. "But she's OK. She wants you to call her."

Logan just stared at him, wondering how on Earth he could start that conversation. “Is he going to live?” he asked, after a moment of contemplation.

“Well,” Cliff said, “your father is in very serious condition.”

“Is he going to live?” Logan asked through clenched teeth.

“I believe so,” Cliff responded.

“And the bad news just keeps on coming,” Logan quipped, just before he laid his aching head down and tried not to think anymore. 

~*~

An hour later, his headache was only dulled, which was no surprise. Even on a good day, proximity to Trina and a hangover were two things that should never be mixed together. Despite the fact that she had been forced to remain outside the interrogation room, Trina managed to be a disruptive force. He was pretty sure that Lamb was dragging this whole thing out just to piss Trina off more. 

Sheriff Lamb was pretending to have a hard time comprehending that Logan had no idea that his father and Lilly were 'having an affair', as he insisted on saying over and over again. Logan could have laughed at the idea of his father being involved in such a romantic construct, but he was just too numb. Part of him wanted to correct the record and say that he was pretty sure that they were just plain fucking each other, but he wasn’t about to give any listening ears this evening's sound bite for the news. The very idea of Lilly and … it just made his brain lock up. 

“You really had no idea?” Lamb said in a tone of cynical disbelief that barely hid his glee at the whole sordid situation. “Wow. You really aren’t that bright about women, are you, Echolls?”

“Well,” Logan said, as he pointed at the picture of Veronica in the newspaper, “I’d say my record with women is still better than your record of solving crimes. Lucky for me, my job doesn’t depend upon my record.” 

The vein on Lamb’s head was bulging quite nicely, but Cliff spoke before he could unhinge his jaw. 

“And … we’re officially done here,” he said smoothly. “Any other questions you have to ask my client, you submit in writing.”

Logan had stood up while Cliff was speaking and the room swayed a little when he did so. His last meal had been a long time ago.

“There is still the matter of public drunkenness,” Lamb said hotly.

“Ooh …” Cliff said, looking at his watch. “And there’s the little matter of my client having been told that he was being taken into protective custody for his own safety and security, due to the incredibly high press curiosity about his father's arrest. On top of that is the complete and utter lack of being informed of his Miranda rights, being processed for arrest or having had a Breathalyzer or a blood sample taken.”

“We could get those now,” Lamb said tightly, while Logan nonchalantly folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm.

“Not without a court order,” Cliff said. He ushered Logan in front of him. “We’ll take the ride home that was promised to Mr. Echolls now. Mr. Echolls has answered all of your questions to the best of his knowledge, and while the hospitality of Neptune’s finest has certainly been appreciated, it’s long past the time that my underage client got some rest.”

Cliff opened the door and Trina launched herself at Logan at the same time that the cameras flashed and whirred from the far side of the squad room where the paparazzi were trying to break in. Trina was yelling about police harassment and their father being railroaded and threatening lawsuits and crying, but Logan was trying to pay attention to a very tired looking Deputy Leo.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” he said, “they’re all over the building and the best we could do was keep them out of the squad room, but …”

“They’ve got long lenses and big lights,” Logan answered.

“Pretty much,” Leo said. “We’ve got a car out front to take you and your sister home. Your car is waiting for you there.” He handed Logan an envelope. “Here are the things you left in the car.” 

Leo’s expression was fairly neutral, but Logan could still see the hint of pity in his eyes. Still, it was far better than the gawping curiosity of the other personnel in the sheriff’s office. They were acting as if he’d never been here before, which certainly wasn’t true. But now he wasn’t the spoiled rich son of two movie stars, just the boy who’d been cuckolded by his father, the murderer. Logan realized that he was crushing the envelope and the newspaper when he heard his cell phone power up. He tucked the items under his arm and peeled Trina off of his neck. “Can we go now, please?” he asked Leo. 

“Yeah,” Leo said, and then turned around to ask some of his colleagues to clear the way for him.

“Thank you,” he said to Cliff, and he meant it. 

“Take care of yourself, Logan,” Cliff said.

Logan huffed out a laugh, but stopped himself from saying ‘what for?’ in front of all the listening ears. 

When he turned around, he noticed that Trina had managed to touch up her lipstick and powder her nose. She seemed remarkably recovered from her hysteria as she wound a scarf around her hair and fished her Carreras out of her bag. 

“Maybe you should freshen up before we go,” she suggested.

“No,” he said firmly. “Let’s just go.” He could hear the roar of the crowd outside and was sure that everyone could see how utterly terrified he was to go out in front of them, but he didn’t have a choice. When the doors swung open, the paparazzi pressed in against the inadequate cordon of deputies, and they were pushed back into the vestibule for a moment before they began to swim against the tide. 

Trina had taken his hand, and she was moving forward into the throng, not noticing or not caring that he was momentarily paralyzed by the mass of cameras in front of him. “Logan! Logan! Logan!” he could hear, and the sound of his name seemed to be coming from every direction.

_“Logan, did you know?”_

_“Logan, how do you feel?”_

_“Logan! Have you seen your father?”_

“We have no comment!” Trina said. “We know our father will be vindicated,” she yelled and the cameras swung to her momentarily. Logan hoped that this meant they had missed his expression of disbelief. He tried to pull his hand away from Trina, but she was holding it in front of her as she plowed through the deepest phalanx of the paparazzi. He was pretty sure that she'd done it on purpose, aimed too wide to actually reach the car easily, but he weighed twice as much as she did. He stopped moving and began to tug her back in the right direction. 

_“Logan! Have you seen the tapes?”_

_“Logan!”_

The paparazzi surged away from them suddenly, and Logan pushed Trina toward the car, just as he realized why they’d left.

_“Veronica!”_ The calls were coming from all over the place. _“Over here, Veronica!”_

He lost his hold on Trina as he caught sight of Veronica, looking very small and startled in the crowd. Her cheek was scraped and raw-looking and there was a red mark on her forehead. She was so pale that the bruises looked blue against her skin, but somehow she was still so beautiful, real and alive and he loved her, even though he wanted to hate her.

She saw him just as that thought surged through his consciousness and he wasn’t sure, but he might have reflexively smiled, just out of relief, when her tearful eyes locked with his. 

“You bitch!” Trina shrieked from next to him. “You lying, no good, piece of white trash!” 

The sad smile that had been blooming on Veronica’s lips withered at the sound of Trina’s voice, which she had perfectly timed for a lull in the yelling. The cameras swung back toward him as he pushed Trina toward the waiting squad car. 

“You’re going to pay for your lies, Veronica Mars,” Trina continued, “I’ll make sure of it!”

“Trina,” Logan hissed, “shut the fuck up!” He shoved her into the car none too gently and turned back to look at Veronica, who had stepped towards him, only to see Duncan standing protectively behind her in the place that Logan used to occupy. Duncan’s eyes were unreadable as he looked across the scrum of reporters. They hadn’t spoken since Logan’s un-birthday party, although Logan had left a couple of messages and sent an e-mail or two.

Duncan placed his hand on Veronica’s shoulder and said something in her ear. Veronica shook her head as she tried to move toward Logan, but Duncan said something else and she stopped. Veronica was openly crying now as Duncan put his arm around her. The cameras were capturing the whole tender scene as she sorrowfully turned her attention away from Logan, letting Duncan lead her into the police station.

Logan turned toward the police car with unseeing eyes. Deputy Leo had turned the blue lights on, and he let them blind him as the flashes went off around him. He sank into the car, and dropped his head back against the seat as they tried to drive away. 

He'd been replaced. Which was ironic, he thought, considering he was the replacement himself. 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

The longest day of Logan’s life was only getting worse. When they finally got through the pack of reporters that had staked out the gates of the house, they’d had to park at the end of the drive and walk, listening to the reporters yelling their rude questions as they wound through the maze of police vehicles. Worst of all, his father’s fans had arrived and were chanting “Free Aaron!” over and over. 

“We love you, Logan!” they yelled, as if they knew him, as if they actually knew anything about what constituted reality.

The front door was flung open and their house looked like it'd been ransacked, but of course, it was all legal because the cops were doing it. Trina, who had been mercifully quiet for the past ten minutes, began yelling to beat the band as Logan wandered away from her. All he wanted was some food, a shower and to lay down in his own bed and sleep, preferably until he was forty years old and this was all a dim fucking memory. 

Of course, he never got what he wanted. As he wandered into the kitchen, he could hear the sound of Mrs. Navarro yelling from upstairs and he moved through the room and toward the noise instead of stopping.

“No!” she was saying emphatically. “He was never in here!”

Mrs. Navarro was trying to block the sheriffs from breaking down the door to his mother’s room. 

“Hey!” he yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“We have a search warrant that covers the whole house, young man,” said a smarmy asshole in a suit. He definitely wasn't old enough to be calling Logan young man.

“Well, grandpa,” Logan said, “my father never went into these rooms, and they’ve been closed up since my mother died. Nothing in these rooms belongs to him.” He paused and then added, “She left it all to me.”

The group of officers went silent, some of them shifting nervously at the mention of Logan’s mother, but the asshole in the suit was adamant, and mad about the grandpa crack. “Either you open the door, or we’ll break it down.”

Logan jumped when a restraining hand was placed on his shoulder. “I’m sure that we can be respectful of Mrs. Echolls’ privacy, right, Josh?” Deputy Leo had magically appeared right behind him. “Josh Myers is the Assistant District Attorney,” he explained to Logan. 

Josh stared at Leo for a second and then nodded.

Logan closed his eyes and unclenched his fists, then went over to the door and punched in a code, making sure that his body was blocking the view of the crowd that had gathered. He turned to the Assistant District Attorney. “Just you, and you,” he said looking at Leo. “I don’t want her stuff trashed. C’mon, Mrs. Navarro,” he added softly. 

Her room still smelled like her perfume, and Logan closed his eyes and inhaled once before he stepped in, letting the others follow. After the will had been read, he’d called the locksmith and had a coded lock installed. He wouldn’t have put it past Trina to raid his mother’s closets and he didn’t want her to touch anything. If his mother had left something to Trina, that would have been different, but she hadn’t. She’d left it all to him, so he was going to keep it.

He closed the door behind them, effectively blocking the view of the curious onlookers. Lamb must have called in every cop in the county for this fiasco, he thought mirthlessly. “Mrs. Navarro can answer questions about anything in here,” he said huskily. He watched in a daze while Mrs. Navarro opened the doors to his mother’s massive closet and began opening drawers and moving aside clothes, carefully shifting things back in place once Leo said he was satisfied. 

Josh Myers had rapidly lost interest in his mother’s closet and was standing by her bed, his expression a bit too curious from Logan’s perspective. When the ADA picked up the framed picture that was placed face down on her bedside table and stared at the photo of her and Aaron on their wedding day, Logan finally spoke. 

“Please leave things the way they were,” he said, and went over and turned the picture back down. 

“I’m sorry,” the ADA said and he seemed sincere, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Whatever,” he said shortly.

“Logan?” Leo called from the other room. He and Mrs. Navarro had walked through his mother’s closet and were now in the bathroom. “Did your mom have a computer?” 

“She used the one downstairs in the family room,” Logan said. “Not very often. Mostly to shop.” 

“Like I said,” Mrs. Navarro said emphatically. It was clear that she didn’t think much of the police. 

They all left the bathroom, and came back into the main room. Leo crossed to the divan that was placed near the doors to the balcony overlooking the pool. Mrs. Navarro followed him closely.

“Logan?” Leo asked, pointing at the TV at the foot of the divan. "The TiVo seems to be running." 

Logan was a little unnerved by the idea that his mother's programs were still taping, but he fought to keep his expression neutral. "I don't know about that," he said. "I don't come in here much." The TiVo seemed to be clicking off and then on again while they stood watching it. "I guess the disk is full or something," Logan said helplessly, his voice cracking with restrained emotion. He caught a flash of pity from Deputy Leo again and felt like punching him.

“This VCR has a camera cable attached to it,” Leo said, and tugged on the cable and a camera popped out from under the divan.

Logan's eyes filled with tears before he could stop them. He moved quickly to stand at the end of the chaise, hoping nothing else that had been disturbed would come rolling out. “Yeah,” he said, looking at Mrs. Navarro. “Um, in the weeks before she died, she um … spent a lot of time up here watching home movies.” He opened the doors that covered the shelf filled with tapes.

Mrs. Navarro looked at Leo pointedly, and Logan realized that he'd just confirmed something that she'd already been asked. He was surprised at the surge of gratitude he felt toward her because he knew, somehow, that she had omitted the part about Lynn’s drinking and drugging while she watched the tapes. 

Leo picked up a cassette from the pile on the shelf. “Logan – Winter 1988” he read and then flipped around the next one to look at the title. “Logan – Spring 1988. 

“I was just a baby,” Logan said, feeling stupid and even more like he wanted to cry. “She filmed me sleeping.” For hours, he thought. She filmed me sleeping for hours and she’d talk to me, telling me how beautiful I was, how much she loved me. 

Mrs. Navarro took the tapes out of Leo’s hand and firmly put them back on the shelf, closing the doors. 

“How long ago did your parents stop sharing a room?” The ADA was standing next to his mother’s bureau and Logan thought he might have been smelling her perfume. 

Logan said. “I’m not really sure. It’d been a while.” He could feel that his face was hot with embarrassment; he was lying, as Mrs. Navarro and he both knew. His mother had always had these rooms, but only to house her clothes and things. It wasn’t until just about two years ago that she’d suddenly begun sleeping in here.

“Do you think your mother knew about Lilly Kane?” Josh asked.

Logan was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. “I have no idea what she knew,” he said. “She certainly didn’t believe my father was faithful to her, but she didn't discuss that with me.” He straightened out the bed cover, pulling at an imaginary wrinkle.

“Are we done here, Josh?” Leo asked the ADA. 

The ADA looked around as if committing things to memory. “Yeah,” he said, and started toward the door, then stopped and turned around to face Logan. “I am sorry about your mother,” he said. “She seemed like a great lady.”

“Yeah,” Logan said sourly. “Thanks.” 

Everybody was a fucking fan. 

~*~

When he came back downstairs, the cops were beginning to leave. Trina was out in the foyer yelling and insisting on taking pictures of everything that the cops had removed from the house which, he had to admit, was a pretty good idea. Still, he wondered how long it would be before items from the house began to show up on eBay. He’d give it an hour, not that he’d know. His computer was gone, his room completely trashed. He walked around the first floor.

“Logan,” Mrs. Navarro said, and he jumped. She handed him some food. “Eat.” 

He’d been eyeing the opened liquor cabinets, but … he supposed he should put something in his stomach. It would give him something to throw up later. 

“Dios mio,” Mrs. Navarro said, looking around the house. Everything was thrown on the floor -- couch cushions, books. DVDs and videotapes cases had been opened, their contents strewn on the floor with everything else. “What did they expect to find here?” she asked in an exasperated tone and began to straighten things up. 

Logan took a bite out of his sandwich. “I have no idea,” he said. “Mrs. Navarro, you probably shouldn’t even bother.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “They’ll probably be back.”

“Animals,” she muttered, and went back to picking things up off the floor. 

“My room is toast,” he announced to her. 

She nodded. “Yes, they came here yesterday for your room and the pool house.”

Veronica Mars, Logan thought, and he felt his guts wrench. He dropped the sandwich back on the plate as Trina walked into the room, talking a mile a minute on her cell phone. She hung up and addressed Mrs. Navarro as if she owned the place, rather than just stopped by between gigs.

“I need to talk to my brother,” Trina announced. “Go clean up someplace else.”

“Excuse me,” Logan said to her. “Mrs. Navarro and I were speaking.” He typically didn’t give Mrs. Navarro much thought, but he couldn’t help but be touched by her display of loyalty to his mother. 

“It’s all right, Logan,” Mrs. Navarro said, and she left the room after giving Trina a scathing look. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Logan asked.

“I don’t want our conversation to be reported in The National Enquirer,” Trina said. “The help usually has loose lips.”

Logan thought about all the stories that Mrs. Navarro could have sold to the Enquirer and turned his back on Trina, walking over to the liquor cabinet.

“Logan, I need you to be sober,” Trina said.

Logan huffed out a laugh as he rummaged through the cabinet, looking for the highest alcoholic content beverage he could find. “Whatever for?” he drawled out in an exaggerated manner.

“Barry is on his way over,” Trina said, “so you have just enough time to finish your lunch and take a shower before we have to go.”

“Go where, exactly?” Logan asked tightly.

“To see Daddy, of course,” she said to him as if he were stupid.

Logan laughed. “The only time I intend to see Aaron is when he’s in the courtroom, and hopefully, that one last time when they slide that big ol’ needle into his arm.”

“How can you say that!?” Trina yelled at him in outrage, grabbing the open bottle away from him. “He’s our father!”

All this time, Logan had never realized quite how stupid Trina was. “Trina,” he said to her very slowly, as if she were a rider on the short bus, “First Aaron fucked my girlfriend; then he murdered her.”

Trina’s head rocked back like Logan had slapped her. “You believe that?” she asked him, as if he were the stupid one.

“Yes,” he said, and yanked the bottle back from her, holding it up over his head. 

She grappled with him. “No,” she said desperately. “It’s a lie.”

“They have videotape of them, Trina,” he said. “Screwing in the pool house.” 

“No,” she said. “Barry said the tape was mostly destroyed. Barry said they don’t have a case.”

“Barry said, Barry said …” he mimicked unkindly. “You don’t get it, do you?” She was still trying to get the bottle away from him. “How long do you think it’s going to be before all of the other underage girls he banged start coming forward? Like, say, your classmates?” 

Trina stopped and stared at him. 

“What? Do you honestly think that my girlfriend was the first underage girl he ever screwed?” 

“Daddy wouldn’t do that to …” she stopped herself just in time.

“You?” Logan asked. “I’m sure you’d like to think that. I know I would,” he added.

“He wouldn’t hit on my friends,” Trina said through gritted teeth.

“Why?” Logan laughed. “Because they were all so unattractive? Because they were _your_ friends? Oh please, Trina.” He took a big swig from the bottle. “He probably fucked the dog – that’s why she really ran away.”

“You’re disgusting, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, if I were you, I’d be trying to figure out which one of those starfuckers you call friends is going to _20/20_ first with her not-so-exclusive tale of underage debauchery, and tells America all about how lucky she is ‘to be left alive to tell the tale’.” Logan sketched quotes in the air as he imitated a TV announcer. “I’m putting my money on that Sandy girl,” he said, and took another drink. “Yeah, Sandy, the blonde one with the big tits? Remember how she just stopped showing up one day?”

Trina was staring at him. “She got a movie,” she whispered. “That’s why she left town.”

“It’s awful convenient that she never came back, though,” Logan said. “Maybe he hit her, too. How long do you think it’s going to be before your ex-boyfriend tells the press about the beatdown that Daddy Dearest put on him?” 

Trina was crying now, but Logan just couldn’t bring himself to care. “You’re pathetic,” she snapped at him. “A useless, pathetic drunk, just like your mother was.” 

She turned and fled the room, but not before he countered with “Better a drunk than a murderer.”

Logan surveyed the destroyed room with a sigh, ignoring the tears that threatened. If only he had jumped last night, then he could have really been exactly like his mother. He flipped a couch cushion back up onto the frame and sat down, putting his feet up on the crap covered coffee table. Something broke under his heel; he hoped it was one of his father’s many awards. The bastard stared at him from one of the framed movie posters that was propped against the wall it had been removed from. He threw a pillow at it, hitting Aaron squarely in the eye, and the pillow laid there obligingly, blocking Aaron from his view. He raised the bottle in a toast while he gave his unseen father the finger. 

“Then again,” he said aloud, “maybe I did jump, and this is hell.”

~*~

As it turned out, it took Barry closer to four hours to make it over to the house, just long enough for Logan to have had a long nap, woken up and moved to the TV room to finish his lunch with his beverage of choice. He’d been watching the non-stop coverage on CNN and every other news channel ever since. It was truly strange to see pictures of himself on the news and to hear the stories that were being told about him, Lilly, Duncan, and Veronica. Neither of them had spoken to the press, but he’d seen the replay of the scene outside the police station enough times and from enough different angles to decide that Duncan looked like he hated him now. 

And Veronica looked like she pitied him. 

As much as he detested being the subject of newsmentaries, he hated being the object of pity more. 

“Fuck ‘em both,” he said aloud to the TV, then groaned as Madison Sinclair’s ugly face popped up on the screen. 

“Again?” he asked the TV, then mimicked in a high, breathy voice along with Madison, “I’m so shocked! Oh!” TV Madison exclaimed and then put her hands up to her face in stage-y horror. “Ohmigod! I was just in that house, for a party! Oh!” she and Logan said, “to think what could have happened!”

Logan leaned forward and squinted, but they’d cut back to the newscaster too fast. He could’ve sworn that the first time he’d seen Madison interviewed, when it was live, that her nipples were hard when the cameras pulled back to show a wider angle. 

“It’d be just like you to get off on this whole situation,” he told the TV, “but Madison, I can guarantee you that no Echolls man ever wanted to bang you.” He took a swig from the bottle. “Kill you?” He paused dramatically. “Now, that’s a real possibility.”

“I hope that you’re not going to be expressing those kinds of sentiments in front of the press,” Barry announced from behind him.

Logan didn’t even bother to turn around, since he’d already known that he had an audience for his little floorshow. “Barry, I can guarantee you that I will not be speaking to the press, period. So unless you and my sister are intending to inform the masses about my every utterance, they won’t actually be hearing anything from my lips.” His picture popped up on the news again. “Besides, why do they even need me? They can just continue to say anything they want about me and everybody will be happy.”

“Logan,” Barry said, in his oh-so-serious adult voice, “we need to talk about your father.” Trina had walked over to the TV and shut it off, then unplugged it when a protesting Logan had turned it back on with the remote.

“Fine,” he snarled, “how is the old murderer doing?”

“Logan,” Barry sighed.

“Fine, fine,” he said, “how is the old _alleged_ murderer doing?” He arranged his features to resemble Aaron’s best ‘I care … deeply’ expression.

“Do you really want to know?” Barry asked.

“Sure,” Logan said. “Hit me. And make it hurt, just for old times' sake.”

Barry looked like he was actually considering Logan’s request for a minute, but stopped himself and walked across the room and sat down in an armchair opposite where Logan laid on the couch. “Your father is still unconscious,” he began, “and he’s in the recovery room after his second round of surgery.”

Logan had heard this much on the news and didn’t comment.

“His most serious injury is that his pelvis was shattered when he was hit by a truck. It turns out that some of the bone nicked his intestines,” Barry continued. Logan had to forcibly stop himself from making a ‘well, now he really is completely full of shit’ joke, so he took a swig off the bottle instead. 

“They thought they’d repaired his injuries, but with the weakness he has in that area from having been stabbed and this new trauma, he showed post-operative signs of a rupture. They had to take him back in and give him a colostomy. It’s temporary,” he hastened to add, as if Logan might actually be concerned.

“Is that it?” Logan asked. 

“As far as I know,” Barry said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Only the big one,” Logan said. “The shattered pelvis … will he be able to fuck any of my future girlfriends, or is it game over for Aaron?”

“I told you,” Trina said, “There’s no talking to him when he’s drunk. He’s just like his mother.”

“Thank you,” Logan said cheerfully. “She reminds me of that like 50 times a day.”

“Logan,” Barry said sympathetically, “I can understand how you feel - ”

Logan laughed. “Wow! Did your dad fuck your girlfriend, videotape it, and then _allegedly_ bash her brains in? Because I never knew that about you!”

Barry was silent for a minute. “Listen, Logan, you’re right. None of us can understand how you feel right now, but I think that what your sister and I want to know is that you are not going to damage your father’s chances at a fair trial with any more stunts like last night. There have been reports that you were seen standing on the railing of the bridge your mother jumped from.”

Logan drank.

“I’ve managed to keep them out of the press so far, but …”

“So, you’re saying that if I kill myself too, that it’ll make my Dad look like even a bigger bastard than he actually is?” Logan asked. “Weren’t you supposed to be trying to talk me out of this?”

“Logan,” Barry said in exasperation, “I want you to promise me that you won't torpedo your father's …”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Logan said in a tone of disbelief. “Do you think that you’re Aaron’s lawyer, Barry?” 

Barry looked at him as if he were stupid, “I've been your father's attorney for 25 years, Logan. And as his attorney, and his friend, I’ll be putting together a criminal team.”

"Oh, oh, oh, man, Barry,” Logan said. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Barry asked impatiently.

“Barry, when was the last time Aaron called you?” 

Barry shrugged. “It was around the time we were arranging the reading of your mother’s will, why?”

Logan was nodding. “Has Aaron ever not called you for that long, Barry?”

Barry had gone very still in his chair. “Your mother had just died,” he said. “Of course, he became somewhat withdrawn. Business was no longer a primary concern.” 

“Yeah,” Logan said, and sat up. “Listen, Barry. You stopped being Aaron’s lawyer the day you kept the fact that my mother changed her will from him.”

Barry’s expression was incredulous. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is,” Logan said. “And I’m sorry he didn’t tell you, but that’s the way it is. From his perspective, you went behind his back and you sided with my mom against him. And when he wakes up? He’s going to pick up the phone and he’s gonna call Mark Geragos or Robert Shapiro. Hell, he'll probably have them dig up Johnny Cochrane for him!”

Trina had turned around from the window and was staring at him as Logan continued, gesturing with the bottle to emphasize his points. “He’s gonna assemble the biggest, baddest Dream Team you’ve ever seen. And he’s gonna ditch his publicist and get someone really hardcore to do image rehab, somebody meaner than Pat Kingsley. And then, he’s going to instruct them to hire some PI that makes Pellicano look like a wannabe and have them dig up every piece of dirt they can find on Lilly, and the Kanes, and the Mars family.” He ticked the list of his father’s enemies off on his fingers. “And then, they're going to splash it all over the airwaves.” 

Barry had begun to look really uncomfortable. 

“I mean, he has never had this kind of an opportunity before,” Logan said. “It’s even better than what he was planning for about a year from now. You know, the quiet comeback of the older, wiser Aaron Echolls," he framed an imaginary TV screen and adopted a pained expression. "No longer the action hero, but the serious actor and devoted family man, still mourning the tragic death of his beautiful wife.”

When Barry flinched even Trina noticed it. 

“See?” Logan said and took a drink. “He doesn’t need that strategy anymore, Barry. He’s already more famous than OJ. He's just as guilty, but he’s a helluva lot smarter.” Logan nodded. “The one thing he’s not gonna do is pick up that phone and call you, because you betrayed him.” He paused. “Trust me, Barry, that’s the way it’s gonna go.”

Barry was staring at him with an expression that was equal parts distaste and fear. 

“Are you finished?” Trina said. “He’s too drunk to come to the hospital anyway, Barry. Let’s go.”

“Au contraire, ma soeur. I’m not drunk at all,” Logan said cheerfully to her departing back. “Not enough, anyway. And don’t worry, Barry. I’d sooner face a firing squad than leave this house. I certainly have no desire to see Daddy Dearest.” 

“You really think he did it, don’t you?” Barry asked. He’d stood up and was preparing to leave. 

“Oh, yeah,” Logan said. “And that leads me to think about all sorts of things, so I’m drinking.” He looked up at Barry. “Actually, I, um, called you a couple of weeks ago, to ask for the inventory of my mother’s artwork and her other possessions. Do you have it?”

“That seems rather mercenary of you, Logan,” Barry answered sharply, “considering the current circumstances.”

“Yeah, well, the current circumstances dictate that my father is going to spend a helluva lot of money on his defense,” Logan said. “And I’ll be goddamned if he spends one penny of my mother’s money.”

Barry dropped his briefcase on the coffee table with a bang and opened it, withdrawing a thick manila envelope. He tossed it at Logan. “Consider our business concluded, Logan,” he said, and walked to the door. “Any questions you have about your mother’s trust, have your lawyer contact me.”

Logan waited until he heard the distant slam of the front door and raised his bottle in the air. “Alone at last,” he said, and picked up the remote before he realized that the TV was still unplugged. “Aw, fuck me.”

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

Letting the days go by _let the water hold me down_  
Letting the days go by _water flowing underground_  
Into the blue again _after the money’s gone_  
Once in a lifetime _water flowing underground_

Once in a Lifetime … Talking Heads  
~*~

_When he pushed off from the railing, Logan felt an instant of pure freedom -- just before he heard the sound of mocking laughter. He twisted unnaturally in the open air._

_Lilly was standing on the bridge in her pep squad uniform. She waved._

_“Buh-bye, lover!” she said cheerfully._

_Then she turned into his father’s welcoming arms as Aaron pulled her right leg up and over his hip. He was smirking at Logan over Lilly's shoulder as he ground against her while she moaned, dropping her head back. As Aaron bent forward to kiss Lilly’s long white neck, Logan plummeted head down into a tumbling freefall toward the unyielding cement of Neptune High’s schoolyard._

Logan leapt up off the couch, slamming his shin hard against the edge of the coffee table. The house was dark, but the TV was on and an announcer was droning about Aaron’s affair with Lilly. As he hopped over and shut it off, his eye was caught by the flashing blue lights reflecting off the apex of the cathedral ceiling. He sucked in a breath, heart pounding at the dream and the instinctive fear that the blue lights in the darkness conjured up. Rationally, he knew that Lamb had left some cops to protect them from the fans and the reporters, but suddenly it was as if he could feel them all in the dark, ringing the house. He was surrounded. Logan couldn't catch his breath and he ran through the empty rooms and burst outside to the fresh air. 

The only light came from the pool, gleaming like an unblinking eye in the thick darkness, staring up at the empty nothingness of the sky. He dropped onto one of the deck chairs and gasped, putting his head between his knees to try and control the hyperventilation. “Lilly,” he choked out, and that one word was the final push he needed to let the tears he had bottled up inside go. 

Afterwards, he stripped off all of his clothes and threw himself into the pool, letting himself sink down to the bottom where he just sat under the diving board, holding his breath and thinking. 

He didn't know what to believe anymore. What was real, what was fake -- it was all a jumble in his mind. He'd thought that he knew the difference, that he could tell when people were acting, but could he? 

One of the things that he’d always loved about Lilly was that she wasn’t impressed by his movie star parents. Or so he thought. Her own parents were famous, after all, and she knew that public image was very different from private life, that people could project the image of a happy family without actually having one. She'd always seemed so worldly. He’d felt safe with her, believing that she was sophisticated enough to see through Aaron’s veneer. He thought that she’d loved him just enough to hate Aaron, because Aaron was a liar and a bully. They'd never really talked about Aaron hitting him, but he thought she knew exactly how much of a bully Aaron really was. She'd certainly been a witness to enough Echolls family dysfunction over the years, just as he'd witnessed plenty of what they called ‘Kane Mania’.

Now he wondered what she really understood, or worse, if she'd known and still played with fire. Lilly had always loved a challenge. 

All this time, he’d been picturing Lilly and himself as loving combatants playing out their own little drama from their opposite sides of the game board -- one step forward, two steps back, knight, pawn, queen. But while he’d been focusing all of his attention on their game, Lilly had been playing several simultaneously. She'd been playing so far beyond his level, it was dizzying. 

He burst up into the blue night to find himself facing the pool house. Before they’d left, the Sheriff’s office had sealed the doors with crime scene tape and solemnly instructed them to stay away from the outbuilding. They’d be coming back to collect more evidence, although he didn’t know what they hoped to find after such a long time. Not that he had any intention of finding out what it was that they were looking for, anyway. He had his own reasons for staying out of that haunted building. 

_"I do trust you"_ , he heard Veronica say, and tried to force away the sense memory of her weight against his groin as she straddled him, listening to his confession. He'd believed her. But then again, he'd been a fool for most of his life. His subconscious was always happy to chastise him, using Aaron's voice, of course. Logan pushed away from the wall and tried to focus on staying afloat, willing the voices to recede as he drifted out to the center of the pool.

The haze of the late California spring hid most of the stars from his view. He wondered if there was already wildfire in the hills somewhere that was obscuring them from his view. Summer, when the air was dry and heavy with smoke, usually meant vacations to someplace exotic, followed by surfing in Mexico and endless parties. In the time after Lilly, he’d thought of parties as a chance to hook up with some blue-eyed bathing beauty. But he doubted there’d be any parties for him this summer; the only blue-eyed beauty he really wanted was lost to him. 

Did it signify a kind of self-loathing that he had always been attracted to women with blue eyes? If he were honest with himself, he’d have to say that his original fascination with blue eyes probably stemmed from Duncan, who had the most guileless, innocent eyes when they met. Of course, even Veronica’s eyes had been guileless, once upon a time. Lilly’s eyes had never been that -- not even when they were younger -- but that was part of what he liked about her. He'd thought that she was smart about the ways people could be wicked, thought that she could see just how easy it was for some people to lie. 

Then again, maybe he was just being too hard on Lilly. Aaron had become a star based on his ability to convince others that he was something he'd never been -- the hero. How could he expect Lilly to be impervious to Aaron’s charm? Logan had watched Aaron on movie sets for years. Aaron would target a woman, especially one that didn’t like him, and set out convincing her that he wanted her, that he _needed_ her. If she didn’t like him, especially if she was disdainful or dismissive of him, that only made it a bigger challenge, a better game of conquest when she did finally succumb. 

And Lilly had loved being paid attention to; she must have felt so triumphant when she thought she had Aaron begging.

He felt the flesh on his back creep when he thought of them together. He closed his eyes but the images were burned into his lids, so he turned over and swam laps hard until they dissolved. 

He dragged himself out of the pool and wrapped himself up in towels, piling his clothes in a bundle in his arms. He considered lying down on a deck chair to sleep, but knew that he'd be woken by the gardeners or find his picture in the _Enquirer_ if he did. Instead he stumbled upstairs, exhausted and a little drunk. The police had broken his bed frame in their overzealous search of his room, but he could still sleep on the mattress. But, at some point, Trina would probably stomp in and try to make him go see Aaron. He knew her too well to assume that she’d just give up. He dragged himself up the stairs to the second floor, and his eyes were drawn to his mother's room. Before today, he'd avoided being in there, but now … it seemed like the only safe haven in the house.

The quiet of the room seemed exceptional to him as he stepped in and gently shut the door. Above the divan, he could see the blue light of the pool reflected on the ceiling in an azure-tinged shadow. He looked out the window and over the small balcony at the pool. It was already becalmed, its surface showing not a ripple. Only the water splashed at the pool's edge and his faintly outlined footprints showed that he'd ever been there, and that evidence would be gone long before morning. 

He couldn't make himself get in his mother's bed, so he dropped his clothes by the side of the chaise, and lay down on it, dragging the chenille throw that was folded at its foot up and over him. Before sleep took him under, he wondered if Veronica was sorry now that she’d found her truth -- if learning what had caused Lilly's death had been worth it, after all. He'd believed her when she said that she loved Lilly, but he also knew that she’d never expected the answers that she’d found. Was she wondering now if she'd known Lilly at all, like he was? All along, he’d believed that there was one person who loved him just as he was, just a little, and that was Lilly. Even after she was dead, he had still had that one thing to hold onto, but now... 

And worse, he felt like a fool because he had hoped Veronica could love him more than just that little bit, that she would wrap him up in the fierce tenderness that was all hers and … 

But it was all lost, and he was adrift.

~*~

Logan had seen a movie once about a group of surfers who'd followed summer around the world in their quest for the perfect wave. At the time, he thought it was kind of cheesy -- who needed to travel that far to surf? But after only a few days of being trapped in the house, the ocean that was less than a mile from where he was might as well be as distant as New Zealand’s remotest shore. This was going to be Logan’s endless summer.

The irony was that it wasn’t actually summer yet. He was supposed to be at school, but with the crowd of reporters from around the world surrounding the house, not to mention his father's fans, he didn't see how he could possibly get out undetected. Trina had scoffed at his refusal to go outside the gate, but she had always enjoyed being a part of the 'Echolls Spectacle'. 

Besides, even though he never answered the phone anymore, he couldn’t help but notice that an overwhelming majority of the phone calls were for him, which he knew upset Trina. She went out to see their father every day faithfully. After the first couple of days, nobody was interested in speaking to her, although they did ask about Logan. He’d seen that just the other night on the news, how irritated Trina was when she gritted out ‘no comment’ with a fake smile. 

Every day, sometimes twice a day, a major talking head would call to talk to Logan. Diane Sawyer had called. Barbara Walters. Oprah. In fact, just about every famous interviewer had called and asked if he’d be willing to talk to them. Katie Couric had traded on the fact that they’d met a few times. His mother had been a big supporter of the charity she’d established in her late husband’s name. When she called, Katie said that she’d been thinking about him, and that she was worried about him. Even if they didn’t tape an interview, she hoped that he knew that he could call anytime. She'd left her private number. But then again, Larry King had also left his, and he’d never laid eyes on Larry King off of the tube. Mrs. Navarro was keeping a list of all his calls for him, hidden from Trina in the drawer where the fattening snacks were kept. 

Duncan Kane’s name was never on that list. 

Every morning, Logan would wait to come downstairs until he heard Trina leave. He’d have already checked his missed calls on his cell phone, and then he’d check the list. Charlie Rose, yes. Duncan Kane, no.

Initially, Logan had wondered if Veronica had told Duncan that he’d suspected Duncan had killed Lilly. He contemplated whether that betrayal had been the final straw that had imploded their friendship. But then he'd remember Duncan’s expression on the night of his un-birthday party and he knew that it was Veronica that had been the final straw. Logan had put her first, before everyone else, and it had cost him everything.

Every morning when he checked his voicemail, Veronica had always called his cell phone; her name was also always on the list that Mrs. Navarro wrote out in her neat, but foreign-looking hand. Her voicemail messages were always brief. "Logan, it's Veronica. Please call me." She sounded tired a lot of the time, and sometimes the messages were time-stamped in the middle of the night.

He never called her back. He’d decided to take a page from her Spy Girl handbook and act like she was invisible. So far, she wasn’t taking the hint. 

Still, he liked to listen to her try and pump Mrs. Navarro for information. If he timed it right, and Trina had left on time, he could make it to the kitchen during the long locker break in the morning when Veronica was sure to call the house phone. 

“No,” Mrs. Navarro was saying. “He doesn’t talk to anybody.” She paused. “Yes, I told him you called.” She sounded exasperated. “Every time.” After a beat, she said, “Well, he couldn’t read that. They took his computer.” Mrs. Navarro sounded irritated on his behalf as she continued. “They broke things everywhere in the house – they even broke the frame on his bed!” She listened. “No,” she said, “that’s not a good idea.” 

He leaned against the door and watched Mrs. Navarro. 

“I have to go,” she said. 

As she hung up, he could hear Veronica protesting. 

“She’s not going to give up,” Mrs. Navarro said. 

Logan shrugged. “You could just let the answering machine pick up the calls.”

“She just calls back until I answer,” Mrs. Navarro said as he crossed the kitchen and got himself a glass of juice. 

“You know what?” Logan said, struck by inspiration. “When she calls back next time, tell her I said that I need to do whatever.” Mrs. Navarro looked confused. “I need to do whatever,” he said clearly. “She’ll understand.”

She shook her head. “She’s still gonna call, Logan,” she said. “Her and that Katie Couric. She called _again_.” She cleaned the counter vigorously. “I can’t watch the Today show anymore.”

“The cult of the tiny blonde,” Logan intoned sagely, "is characterized by its wrongheaded tenacity." 

Mrs. Navarro looked at him with a puzzled expression, but he only smiled and went off to the living room to watch today’s continuing coverage of what he mentally referred to as _Aaron Echolls Theatre_ , juggling coffee, juice and pop tarts. He particularly enjoyed watching the news coverage that was being broadcast in languages he didn’t understand, like Chinese. It was always extremely bizarre to see his face pop up behind the newscaster and hear some mangled iteration of his name pronounced haltingly. The newscasters never had any problem rapping out his father’s name. Years of practice had worn the edges of its foreign strangeness.

It was extremely boring, but since there was no one around to amuse him, he had to at least try and amuse himself. He couldn't spend all of his time drunk; even that had become boring. 

~*~

He should have known that the other shoe had to drop at some point. The next day, he’d woken feeling stultified by the heat. Ever since the police had been rummaging around in the vents, they didn't seem to be working correctly. The broken air conditioning was another reason for him to stay mad at Veronica Mars. 

Of course, if he could have found some way to blame her for the weather, he'd have done it. He told himself he was ignoring Veronica, cutting her out of his life for good, but in fact she was on his mind almost constantly. The first thing he did in the morning was listen to her cell phone messages. He’d start with the latest one, then he'd listen to the old, saved ones. After that, he'd go downstairs and eavesdrop on her conversation with Mrs. Navarro. Then he'd spend an exciting day watching the continuing coverage of the Aaron Echolls Spectacle, hoping that one of the satellite trucks parked outside Neptune High would get a good shot of her. Every night he told himself that tomorrow was the day that he'd go cold turkey, but … he'd wake up and start the cycle again. 

And this morning had been worse because he'd been dreaming about her. In his dream, she was laying in his arms on the divan, running her hands over his shoulders, his chest. She was talking to him in her low serious voice, trying to explain something to him, but he couldn’t focus on her words. All he could think was that she was finally there as he leaned in to kiss her. 

When he'd awoken for real later, he was lying as if he'd left space on the small divan for her, his arms cast out to the side, molding around the empty air. Her sad voice on the telephone had seemed a particularly hollow substitute. 

He showered and dressed himself, then padded downstairs, feeling unsettled and empty.

“Logan,” a voice said to his left, and he stifled a curse. He’d really thought he’d heard the door slam.

“Trina,” he answered, but kept moving.

“Daddy really wants you to come see him,” she said firmly.

He stopped, turned around and looked at her. “I’m not going,” he said, then turned back toward the kitchen. 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?” she asked.

Before he could even plan what to say to that, she continued. “I mean, you’ve heard what other people say he did, but why won’t you let him tell you his side of the story?”

“Because I don’t care?” Logan asked rhetorically, wondering who these 'other people' Trina thought he was talking to all day were. 

“You’re lying,” Trina said. “He’s our father, and you’re mad at him, but you do care about him. He’s not a killer, Logan.”

She really was delusional. Logan shook his head and blew out a breath. “You know, Trina, I actually think that it’s kind of nice for him that you’re always on his side.” He glanced over at her and she looked skeptical. “No, I’m really being serious here. It’s the one thing he has that I envy him for.” He paused. “And I think that you’re convinced that he didn’t kill Lilly.”

“Because he didn’t,” she insisted firmly, “and if you’d just talk …”

“But he did have sex with her,” Logan said over her, and she stopped. “I mean, you do believe that, right?”

“He’s really sorry, Logan,” Trina said. “He has a problem!” she said forcefully, off Logan’s scathing look.

“We all have problems, Trina,” Logan said evenly, “and he’s not mine anymore. I’m not going. Don’t ask me again.”

He turned around and walked away. This time when she began yelling he didn’t answer, but just went into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mrs. Navarro!” he said cheerfully. “It’s another _spectacular_ day here at Casa de Echolls.”

Mrs. Navarro was scrubbing rather forcefully at a counter and didn’t answer him.

“Mrs. Navarro?” he prompted. 

She turned and looked at him, seemed to be about to say something, then stopped herself. She walked over to the snack drawer and took the phone call list out, then slapped it in front of him. Veronica’s name was underlined several times. 

He looked at her, and started to speak, but she tapped Veronica’s name. “You have any messages for Veronica, Logan,” she said clearly, "then you give them to her. I do not like making people cry.” She looked up at him angrily. “Veronica is a nice girl.” 

Logan’s mouth was hanging open. “She cried?” he asked, hearing his voice crack like a twelve year old’s. He could feel his whole body flushing. 

“No, no, no,” Mrs. Navarro said. “You want to know? You call.” She threw the sponge at the sink and missed, then left the room without another word.

Logan spent the next few hours in absolute silence, just sitting in the living room thinking about how much better he’d felt about taking shots at Veronica when he couldn’t picture how she’d looked when the punch landed. He felt ashamed of himself and then angry with Veronica for still having the ability to get to him after everything that she’d done. 

This was why he couldn’t talk to her. He’d just forgive her, even though she didn’t deserve it, because she’d cry. It was easier when she was tough, and he could just convince himself that she was a bitch. After all, she was the one who had lied to him. 

She'd sat on his lap with that serious expression on her face and told him that she trusted him after he'd confessed the worst things that he'd ever done. And even he knew that he’d done some really crappy things to people in his time. He’d thought that telling her what he’d done to Duncan, what he’d done to her, was the right thing. It was about more than thinking that he owed her the whole truth. He wanted her to see him like he really was, thought that if she loved him, then maybe he might actually be worth it. 

And for a brief moment, he’d thought that everything was going to be OK. Veronica had looked him right in the eye and told him that she forgave him, and then kissed him. 

He’d trusted her -- something he hardly ever did -- and she’d lied to him. 

He'd never forget coming back to the pool house to find her gone. Even Aaron’s best sucker punches hadn’t left him so winded, because he was always half-expecting them. 

And even then, after she’d left him with no explanation and avoided him for days, he had still forgiven her. She had stood there at his locker and looked him right in the eye again, and lied. She asked him for time, and he gave it to her, because he still wanted her, and he’d believed her when she said that he was forgiven. 

It wasn’t until she had him arrested that he’d finally realized that she had been playing him all along. He couldn’t even stand to think about what had happened at the beach, because even then, as angry and hurt as he was, he still would have taken her back. Hell, he’d even been down on his knees, ready to beg until her father came along. 

He was whipped and stupid and he’d never even gotten any, but he had nothing to be ashamed about. If she was crying now, it was all her own fault. He wasn’t to blame.

Mrs. Navarro appeared again with phone in hand. 

“Oh no, Mrs. Navarro,” he pleaded, literally standing up and moving away from her.

“It’s Vice Principal Clemmons,” she said shortly, then put the phone down on the table and left the room. She was still clearly irritated with him. 

“Just fucking great,” he said, but he walked over and picked up the phone.

“I heard that Mr. Echolls,” Mr. Clemmons said. 

“Awesome,” Logan said. “What can I do for you?” 

“You can come to school,” Mr. Clemmons said tersely. “There is the little matter of finals and, although your absence was understandable at first, given the circumstances, my patience has now worn thin. You will come to school tomorrow.”

“And how are you actually going to get me there?” Logan asked. “I mean, logistically speaking. I’m kinda trapped here.”

“Sheriff Lamb’s men will be escorting you,” Clemmons said. “They’ll be at your house at 7:15. No excuses, Mr. Echolls.”

“Just fucking great,” Logan said to the dial tone.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

_Driving thru your suburbs  
Into your blues, into your blues, yeah   
Into your blue-blue Blues   
Into your blues, ohh, yeah _

_I see your hair is burnin'  
Hills are filled with fire   
If they say I never loved you   
You know they are a liar _

_The Doors …………………………… LA Woman_

~*~

Of all of the many ways that Logan Echolls had pictured he might die, careening around Neptune in the back of a patrol car being driven ineptly by Sheriff Don Lamb was never one of them. In Vegas, in the company of five hookers and a mountain of blow, quite possibly. Surfing after a night of drunken debauchery with the Coors twins, also a possibility. Killed by Angelina Jolie’s jealous jilted lover, definitely. He had even pictured being smeared up against an embankment wall while being pursued by paparazzi, but he’d always figured that he’d have Jenna Jameson, or at least Scarlett Johannsen, with him in his Maserati. He’d certainly never imagined any death in a car scene that included pictures of him splayed against the cage that separated the prisoner from the cop, while the blue lights strobed merrily. 

“Fuck!” Logan yelled as Lamb cornered sharply and he smacked his head against the window. “Aren’t there any seatbelts back here?” He was absolutely terrified.

Lamb was sweating, and sweating hard, which was even more terrifying. Nobody had listened to him when he said that Aaron’s CIA-trained driver, and not this dickless wonder, should be the one to transport him to school. Lamb insisted that this was a job for the professionals, and that he wouldn't authorize a private driver to take a minor to school. Of course, what he really meant was that he needed the good press, and that escorting Logan was a prime opportunity to get his mug in front of the cameras. 

As more of the whole sordid story about the Lilly Kane murder investigation had come out, Veronica and her dad were looking like they were on the side of justice and all that was right and good. Lamb had looked exactly like what he was: a weasel trying to curry favor with Neptune’s richest man. With the case against Abel Koontz totally falling apart, the rumblings in the local press of a recall election had begun. 

And now, Lamb's big bid to get his face on the news in a positive story had turned into a disaster. Logan had stopped counting at ten lawns that Lamb had driven over -- they now appeared to be in a neighborhood park heading, unless Logan missed his guess, for the freeway where the state police could join the fray. 

Logan jammed his foot under the front seat and tried to stay upright, dialing information on his cell phone with shaking hands as they lurched through a shrub and onto the road. They jumped the curb and his head bounced off the ceiling. The sound of the siren was nearly deafening.

“Cliff!” he yelled, when the line connected. “Cliff! This is Logan Echolls! Are you my lawyer?”

“Do you need a lawyer?” Cliff said smoothly, and then paused. “Where are you, Logan?”

Logan pinballed across the backseat and couldn’t help the grunt that he let out when his shoulder connected with the doorframe again. “Are you watching TV?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cliff said, “and you’ll be happy to know that your father’s case isn’t the top of the news right now. There’s some sort of massive high-speed chase going on. I think someone stole a patrol car.”

“That’s me!” Logan yelled above the siren.

“You stole a patrol car?” Cliff asked in disbelief. “That’s new.” 

“No,” Logan said, “the sheriff is driving me to school.”

There was a long pause.

"Cliff?!" Logan yelled, afraid they'd been cut off. 

“Wow,” Cliff said, “he’s really going the long way.”

~*~

When the EMT finished checking out Logan and stepped away, the first thing that he saw was Vice Principal Clemmons’ irate face. Clemmons was looking at Logan as if this whole debacle were somehow his fault. 

“I think it’s fairly obvious that some alternative kind of instruction and test taking will have to take place, not only for my client’s safety, but for the safety of the general student population,” Cliff said smoothly. “I understand that many of the paparazzi showed up on campus to stake out positions for my client's arrival?”

“Yes,” Mr. Clemmons snapped, “and not only did they terrorize the students and disrupt the entire school, they caused a great deal of damage. The bills,” he informed Sheriff Lamb, “are going to come out of your budget.” Clemmons continued talking over the Sheriff’s protests, “As for Mr. Echolls, if he was capable of adhering to an alternative schedule, he would have submitted his assignments electronically, an option which is readily available to all Neptune High students via their school e-mail.”

“They have my laptop,” Logan said, pointing at Lamb.

Clemmons looked even more exasperated. 

“They took _all_ of the computers in the house,” Logan emphasized. “And they took my class notebooks.”

“That was part of a legal search,” Lamb said defensively.

“And since that avenue of investigation is now officially closed, there’s no reason why those items cannot be returned to my client,” Cliff said smoothly.

“The investigation is _not_ concluded,” Lamb said.

“Well,” Cliff said, “we could always ask a judge what his opinion is, especially when it becomes clear that your investigation may result in my minor client’s education being materially damaged.” He paused. “I’m sure there would be a lot of interest in that story.”

“Give him his computer and his books back, Lamb” Vice Principal Clemmons said. “Today.” 

The EMT had packed up all of his stuff. “I still say he should be transported to a hospital for observation,” he said to Cliff. “He took a really hard knock to the head. He's probably got a concussion, but that should be confirmed and categorized.”

Cliff looked at Logan, who shook his head.

“If my client requires medical attention, we’ll see that he gets it, but understandably, he’s opting to stay here in a secure locale. He won’t be alone,” he assured the EMT, who looked dubious.

“Who is home?” Vice Principal Clemmons asked suddenly.

“Mrs. Navarro is here during the day,” Logan said, “and my sister is home at night.”

“Mrs. Navarro?” Vice Principal Clemmons asked incredulously. “As in Eli Navarro’s grandmother?”

“Yes,” Logan said, “that Mrs. Navarro.”

“Wonderful,” he said bitterly, then turned to Cliff. “If he is going to be taking tests from home, he will need to be observed.”

"Fine,” Cliff said, “as long as whoever is administering the test is vetted through my client’s security firm and signs a binding agreement of non-disclosure about any contact they may have with my client.”

Clemmons visibly bristled at that, “Now, see here, McCormack,” he said, “my staff has already passed a CORI check and been bonded in accordance with California law.”

“Yes,” Cliff said, “but I think we’ve all seen today just how high the interest is in my client. The temptation to sell that story and supplement a public servant’s meager salary, perhaps even with pictures taken surreptitiously, would be very hard to resist.”

Clemmons was fuming, but Lamb looked smugly happy. “I’m simply not going to subject my staff to that.”

“Well, then we are at an impasse,” Cliff said, “and as much as I would hate to, I could go to court and ask a judge if he feels that my request is reasonable under California’s educational statutes. Those statutes, I believe, require that you make reasonable accommodations to fit the special needs of individual students. Given the circumstances, I don’t see how a judge couldn’t see that this meets the criteria.”

There was a momentary silence.

“We use duBois,” Logan said from the couch. He was exhausted, and his head hurt.

“Fine,” Clemmons said through gritted teeth. “Mr. Echolls, as soon as you are online, I expect to see your missed assignments submitted in a timely fashion.” He left, Lamb following a beat behind. 

“Well,” Cliff said, “that was an interesting morning.”

“Is what you said true,” Logan asked, “about them having to accommodate me?”

“I have no idea if it meets the letter of the law,” Cliff said, “but it seemed the best way to go at the moment.” 

Logan looked down at the coffee table, gathering his thoughts. “Are you my lawyer, Cliff?” 

“Once you pay my bill,” Cliff said easily.

Logan started to nod, but caught himself with a wince, “I’ll write you a check," he said quietly. "I have some questions.”

“All right,” Cliff said, and put his briefcase back down. 

“Why isn’t my father in jail?” 

“Well, for one thing, he’s still in the hospital, and in rather serious condition, from what I understand,” Cliff said. “For another, he hasn’t been convicted of anything yet. He hasn’t even been arraigned yet on the charges he has pending.”

“But when he gets released from the hospital, he’ll go right to jail to wait for trial, right?” Logan asked. 

“I don’t think so, Logan,” Cliff said. “He has no prior record, and although the charges he’s currently facing are serious, they aren’t capital offenses. Plus, a good lawyer would argue that he’s too ill to be in jail at the moment.”

Logan had wrapped his arms around himself while Cliff spoke. “Why hasn’t he been charged with Lilly’s murder?” Logan asked softly. 

“Ah,” Cliff said. “Well, the short answer is that there is already a conviction in the Lilly Kane murder case. And even though it seems likely that verdict will be set aside any day now, until it is set aside, another suspect can’t be charged.”

Logan was staring at his feet. “What’s the long answer, Cliff?”

Cliff sighed. “Logan ... a case for murder that is based entirely on circumstantial evidence is pretty hard to make, but, where the accused is someone that’s known to the community, especially someone who’s a celebrity, it’s even harder. I’m thinking that the District Attorney wants to have a more …” he paused, “solid case before formally charging him.”

Logan got up and began pacing around the room. “So, he could get away with this.”

Cliff didn’t answer him.

“I mean, you’ve seen who he hired,” Logan said. 

“He has hired the best of the best.”

“Does that mean he could be coming back here from the hospital?” Logan couldn’t actually look at Cliff. 

“Yes,” Cliff said.

“Can I stop him from coming here?” Logan asked.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” Cliff answered, “but I don’t see how. This is his house.”

“He was having sex with my girlfriend!” Logan yelled.

“I know,” Cliff said, “and I don’t think the court will approve, but it doesn’t necessarily make him an unfit parent. He would have to have done something more directly to you.” 

Logan wrapped his arms around his waist. His head was killing him. “OK,” he said, “um, let me go get my checkbook.”

“Logan,” Cliff called out as he walked away. “If it’s any consolation, the rumor is that your father will have to go to a physical rehab center when he's released from the hospital. I've also heard that he'll be checking himself into a treatment center immediately after that.”

Logan stopped walking away. “A treatment center?”

“Yes,” Cliff said slowly, “for sex addiction.”

Logan laughed, but it was wrenched out of him. “Brilliant,” he said. “That is fucking brilliant.” 

~*~

After Cliff left, Logan sat in the living room with the bottle of vodka he'd left in the freezer. The TV was on, but it was just noise to drown out the empty silence of the house, or maybe to muffle the sound of his pounding heart. He'd been warned against drinking when he had a concussion, but at the moment he didn't really see what was so bad about lapsing into possibly permanent unconsciousness. 

He, of all people, should have known better than to conflate what happened on TV and in the movies with real life. On TV, when the bad guy was arrested, no matter how rich and famous he was, he was sent to jail to await trial, his passport confiscated. In real life, the only reason that OJ had gone to jail before the trial was because he'd obviously tried to flee when he was being arrested. Aaron was too smart not to learn from OJ's example, good and bad. After all, in the end OJ _had_ gotten away with it. 

He had just never considered that Aaron could come back to the house. The idea of having to live with Aaron again … he couldn't do it. One of them would end up dead. He had to figure out how long he had until Aaron got back and he had to do something fast.

He lifted the bottle to his lips when his eye was drawn to the action on the TV and he choked in mid-drink. Veronica Mars was being chased across the Neptune High schoolyard by a pack of paparazzi. She was with that kid Wallace; she looked furious and he looked terrified. He turned up the volume.

"… awaiting his arrival at Neptune High. Echolls, the son of movie stars Aaron Echolls and the late Lynn Lester, has been absent from school and sequestered in the Echolls family home since his father was arrested and charged with assaulting the father/daughter PI team of Keith and Veronica Mars. Miss Mars is seen here trying to escape the paparazzi. Aaron Echolls is rumored to be the lead suspect in the recently reopened Lilly Kane murder investigation."

The coverage switched over to show a helicopter shot of a Neptune patrol car careening across a roadway. It was being pursued by a pack of cars, including at least one TV news van.

"When word got out that Logan Echolls would be returning to Neptune High, it resulted in a police-led high speed car chase that spanned all of Neptune and parts of several neighboring towns, and sparked a near riot at the High School."

The camera angle was back on the ground now, returned to the parking lot outside of the high school, where it looked like cars had been damaged. "Paparazzi intent upon staking out good camera angles actually got up on the private vehicles of students and teachers at one end of the high school campus." Logan groaned as the camera showed Dick and other 09ers yelling and pushing cameramen. "As you can imagine, the resulting damage was not popular with the car owners and, as our cameras captured, the situation spun out of control when other students involved in the Lilly Kane murder case were spotted." 

Logan's TV screen filled with an image of Veronica and Wallace back-to-back and surrounded by cameras. Logan wasn't sure, but it looked like Veronica had her Taser out and was ready to use it when Duncan suddenly appeared in the camera shot, having shoved some paparazzi out of the way. "Duncan Kane, whose parents have been charged with obstruction of justice in the murder of his sister Lilly Kane, is seen here coming to the defense of Miss Mars." Duncan was visibly angry and threw a punch at a cameraman, after saying something that was bleeped out. 

"Oh, that is just awesome," Logan said bitterly. "Duncan the Hero rides again!" The next few shots showed an out and out brawl. Logan was pretty sure he spotted Dick pulling a cameraman off the top of a car, but it was hard to see what was really going on and who was involved with all of the jumbled camera angles. 

"Meanwhile, the high speed chase that started all of the activity continued on," the anchorman said, cutting back to an overhead shot of the cruiser Logan had been in taking a wide U-turn over a median strip, wiping out flowers and bushes, only to drive right into the paparazzi who'd crossed the median behind the patrol car and cut it off, effectively ending the chase. The patrol car was boxed in and smashed up and sat there defeated, its blue lights whirling as cameramen began to pour out of their vehicles.

The coverage cut over to an exasperated older woman, as Logan sat there with his mouth open. "Look what they did!" she said, pointing at the damaged median strip. The patrol car that Logan was sitting in was just visible behind some crushed shrubbery. "We just had that whole thing planted, you know, our homeowners association adopted it and …" she gestured wildly, "and then the police drove over it and … it's just destroyed! And my lawn!" she pointed back at her house. "And my neighbors' yards!" The camera panned back to show the general destruction. "They smashed the lawn service's truck!" 

"After California Highway Patrol intervened," the announcer intoned, "Logan Echolls was taken home." Suddenly, there he was, shakily getting out of the back of Lamb's patrol car, his hand clasped to his head and blood on his shirt. Lamb was sitting with his head against the wheel of the car, but Logan knew he wasn't injured, just hiding from the contempt of the CHP. "And although it appeared that he was injured, we have heard reports that his injuries appear to be minor and that he is resting comfortably at home." The TV broadcast an image of the now empty schoolyard at Neptune, which was covered with bits of glass, books, bags, and the occasional shoe. A car with its roof smashed in was being loaded up onto a tow truck.

"Oh.My.God." Logan was stunned.

"Classes at Neptune High have been canceled for the rest of the day, and parents and the city council are demanding answers as to how this situation got so out of control." 

The camera's point of view shifted back to the anchor desk as the male anchor concluded that part of the report. The female anchor, Mandy Driscoll, was shaking her perfectly coiffed head in disbelief.

"That's a really good question, Mike," she said. "From the footage that we just saw, it's amazing that nobody was killed, especially during the chase." 

Her colleague agreed and Mandy turned to the camera. "As Mike said, there are a lot of people with questions about how this situation got so out of hand. We've been told that Aaron Echolls, in particular, is very upset about what happened to his son this morning.” 

Logan stood up abruptly, dropping the vodka bottle, which smashed on the floor. “We're expecting a news conference will begin any minute at Neptune General Hospital, although it is unclear who exactly will be appearing. As soon as that news conference begins, we'll be cutting over there for live coverage, but until then …" 

Logan changed channels until he found that CNN was already broadcasting a window within a window, showing a press conference set up at the main door of Neptune General, and he stopped there, turning the volume up with shaking hands. He had the urge to run away -- the mere idea of seeing Aaron again had prompted the kind of fearful paralysis that used to happen to him when he was a little kid. He had worked for years to overcome it, but now he seemed to have reverted. He jumped when the phone rang, and slipped on the vodka and broken glass, sitting back down on the couch, hard. 

"Are you all right?" Mrs. Navarro said from the doorway, the phone in her hand. "It's Cliff McCormack for you."

Logan nodded, and choked out a reply, his voice cracking. "I broke a bottle," he said to her, taking the phone. 

"Logan?" Cliff said. "Logan, I think you should probably turn the TV on."

"I'm watching it," he croaked out, as the doors to the hospital opened. "Can I call you back?" He hung up before Cliff could answer, since he couldn't bear to have a witness to his terror.

When Mrs. Navarro came back in to clean up the mess, he went over and stood behind the other couch, as far away from the TV as he could get and still remain in the room.

A couple of men in suits came out with Trina, and the doors closed. "There's Robert Shapiro," the TV announcer said, "It was rumored that he was taking the lead in defending Aaron Echolls, but it hasn't been confirmed until today. No Barry Scheck, though," he added, then quieted when Shapiro put on glasses and began reading from a prepared statement. 

"Good Afternoon," he said, "I'm Robert Shapiro and I'll be acting as Aaron Echolls' representative for the purposes of this press conference." He introduced his colleagues, and then noted, "and, of course, Aaron's daughter Trina is here, taking time away from her father's bedside to be with us. Aaron himself is far too ill to come down and address the press directly, so before the sedatives took effect he begged his daughter to come down here and represent the family." There was a murmur from the attending press, which Shapiro quelled by raising his hands. Another one of the men in the background patted Trina on the back as she wiped away a tear. "I should say that although Aaron had been making good progress these past few days, he has shown some early signs of post-operative infection, and after this morning's outrageous events, which have left him understandably distraught, he seems to be experiencing a significant setback." Shapiro gripped the podium and paused, while the press murmur rose to a din.

"Gentlemen and Ladies," Shapiro said sharply, "I'm not feeling too well-disposed toward the members of the Fourth Estate right now, so I warn you, if there is any outburst, I will turn and walk right back through those doors and release my client's statements electronically. I only consented to do this press conference for him because I was so outraged at what had happened that I had to speak out." He peered at the press over the tops of his glasses and they quieted down. 

"As of thirty minutes ago, Aaron Echolls has filed an injunction seeking to enjoin the Neptune Police Department, and specifically Sheriff Donald Lamb," and here, Shapiro's voice was icy with contempt, "from having any contact whatsoever with the minor child, Logan Echolls. My client," he said, "understands that the Police Department may have reasonable access to his property due to their investigation," he sneered, "of the crimes that they allege Mr. Echolls may have some involvement in, but their execution of warrants and other items does not give them the right to have any contact with Logan Echolls without my client's express written consent as Logan's father, and legal guardian. They are specifically enjoined from ever taking the minor child, Logan Echolls, into their custody unless, and this is highly unlikely to occur," Shapiro editorialized, "the younger Mr. Echolls were somehow involved in a legal matter. In other words, my client is taking out a restraining order against the police having any contact with his son, since it has been manifestly proven today that they are incapable," Shapiro rapped the podium for emphasis, "utterly incapable of protecting Mr. Echolls from the less honorable members of the Fourth Estate.” 

Logan had wedged himself into a corner and was holding onto his pounding head. He was whispering "Oh my God," over and over again.

Shapiro took off his glasses. "Let me just veer from the text here," he said. "I will argue, in court, that Logan Echolls was actually placed in life-threatening danger by what took place this morning. Danger, by the way, which could have been better managed by the highly trained, private security that Mr. Echolls has always provided for his family. This family," he emphasized, "has been through hell in the last few months, and Aaron Echolls' number one priority has been to ensure that his children are safe. Trina," he gestured behind him, "has left the house every day and traveled to and from the hospital without incident. Without incident!" He bellowed. "Why did this happen today?" He paused dramatically. "Because Logan was not allowed to use the security forces that his father has always provided for him. Make no mistake: he was not _allowed_ \-- and it is just dumb luck that Aaron Echolls still has a son this afternoon."

Mrs. Navarro had stopped cleaning up and was staring at the TV with her mouth agape. 

"That motherfucker!" Logan yelled, clutching at his head. "Son of a bitch! He's gonna fucking use me for good press! Me!"

Trina was crying quietly in the background of the shot, as Logan watched dumbfounded. "Now, as a father, I never want to go through the kind of agony that I just saw Aaron Echolls go through. You can not imagine what he suffered as he watched his son, his only connection to his late wife, be driven in that police car at high speeds until it finally crashed, not knowing if he was ever going to see his son again." Trina had covered her face with her hand, and appeared to be sobbing, shoulders shaking.

"When that patrol car was boxed in and hit?" Shapiro stopped and gripped the podium. "Well. Aaron's heart monitor was going so fast that I thought he was going to have a heart attack. You cannot imagine how upset he is at the police," he said and pointing at the assembled press corps, "and at you. And I am telling you right now, as a father, he is saying to you, 'Leave my boy alone'. Hasn't he been through enough? Shame on you," he continued scolding the press, "and shame on the Neptune Police Department for its complete ineptitude today in handling something as simple as taking a boy to school."

He gathered his notes and seemed about to stop speaking when he shook his head and said. "And let me just say something directly to the Chief of Police, or Sheriff, or whatever his title is," Shapiro paused and dropped his head, then raised it and looked right at the cameras, "Officer Lamb, if this is the way you conduct police business, I cannot wait to see you in court." Shapiro paused again, "I cannot _wait_!" 

He paused and then added, “No questions.” Shapiro turned away from the clamor and put his arms around Trina tenderly, soothing her with 'I know, I know' head movements. 

The phone began ringing immediately, but Logan backed out of the room and away from Mrs. Navarro. 

"No," he said, "No!" 

He turned and fled upstairs.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

_Lets go down with the ship  
Lets slip into oblivion  
Lets go down with the ship  
Lets slip into, lets slip into  
The blue_

_Blue by Vast_

~*~

When Logan surfaced from his long sleep, it wasn't Trina pounding on the door that finally roused him, but the sound of his mother's TiVo clicking on and off. He'd checked out of reality via his mother's happy pills, ignoring the intermittent buzzing of the intercom and yelling at Trina to fuck off when she had banged on the door loud enough for it to penetrate. He had dim memories of waking up and staring at the blue square of light reflected above him, some tumbling images of freefalls from his dreams, but mostly, he remembered nothing. 

The annoying, broken TiVo wasn't the only source of noise -- now that he had risen from his stupor, he could hear activity outside the house. The shadow of the pool on the ceiling was whited out by the daylight, but its reflected surface rippled and sparked above him. Logan groaned, rolled off the divan and stumbled to the window. One story below, a swarm of uniforms were moving purposefully in and out of the pool house. 

It had to be Monday morning, which meant that he'd managed to sleep the rest of Friday and the whole weekend away. Now it was a new week and everybody in the world had something to do, somewhere to be, except for him. Logan avoided his own reflection in the window while the police and the lawyers and the crime scene technicians below looked for evidence of Aaron and Lilly having been in the pool house together. Occasionally, they would stop to look at him and then whisper to each other, glancing back up at him. As Logan stepped back from the window and focused on his reflection, he finally took a good look at what they were all seeing when they looked at him. He was a dirty and unshaven stranger, with a bandage wrapped around his forehead and a mask of bruises shaped like the grille in Lamb's patrol car imprinted around his right eye. 

Staring at himself in the window, Logan was overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely separated from the rest of the world. He’d felt observed as long as he could remember, felt like people were staring at him, or judging him because of who his parents were. It had been such a part of his life that he had begun to take the feeling for granted. But now, standing there behind the glass it struck him that he was truly alone. 

People were just going to stare at him, like he was an animal in the zoo, or talk about him, like he wasn't even a real person with feelings, but just a plot point in a movie of the week. Even Aaron was going to keep on using him, one way or another, trying to re-write the story of Logan's life so that he, Aaron, was the real victim. 

All his life, Logan had been waiting and hoping for someone to save him. When he was a kid, he used to wish that a hero, paradoxically the kind of hero that his father played on film, would sweep in and rescue his mother and him, take them away somewhere safe. When he'd gotten older, he wondered why his mother hadn't tried to save them. She'd just given up, and then she left him behind. And even though she had been dead for months, he was still waiting for someone to save him, hidden away in her room from the rest of the world, safe behind a locked door.

Maybe he was more like her than he wanted to admit. 

He pulled the drapes closed viciously, cutting himself off from the unwelcome scrutiny of the crowd below. 

It was suddenly clear to him that no one was coming, and that he would have to save himself. In his mind’s eye he saw Veronica, the day she showed up at school with her hair cut off and her clothes dark and tough. It had been easy then to assume that those changes didn't extend below the surface. He’d believed that she was still the same girl she'd always been, and he had taunted and tormented her with the knowledge that years of friendship had given him. But the clothes and the hair had been the least of it, when he'd gotten to know her again. Veronica _had_ changed. She was harder and colder, but most of all, she was strong and single-minded. She'd had a purpose. And now, so did he. 

He was breaking out of this fucking zoo. 

He just had to figure out how. 

Behind him, the incessant clicking of the TiVo continued, momentarily drowned out by the sound of buzzing from the intercom.

"What?" Logan said unkindly, his voice rusty from disuse.

"Ms. James is here," Mrs. Navarro said. 

"Fuck," Logan said and just stood there blankly. The buzzer started up again and he stared at the wall. He was just vain enough to be disturbed by the idea of being seen in his current state, not to mention the fact that he was somewhat ripe. 

The buzzer demanded his attention again. He'd let go of the button, leaving him to wonder if he'd done a bit of brain damage with the pills and his Rip Van Winkle act. 

"Ah, what the hell. The tabloids will love it," he said aloud, then pressed the button and spoke into the intercom. "I'm coming down." He glanced at himself in the mirror. Aaron had always been so careful not to mark Logan's face up, to keep what he was doing to Logan hidden. It was ironic now that Aaron was gone from the house that Logan finally looked like the poster child for abused children. He glanced at himself in the mirror one last time and decided that he actually looked more like a derelict, than anything else.

"Fuck it," he said again, and opened the door, staggering a bit as he moved down the stairs. His headache was mostly gone, but it had left a kind of residual ache. He felt like he'd had the flu, like when he'd try to go back to school too early, usually to avoid Aaron if he wasn't off making a movie somewhere. It didn't really matter. Logan was used to pushing himself through the pain. 

He heard Ms. James make a soft noise of distress when she saw him, but when he looked at her, she'd schooled her expression into one that was neutral. 

Mrs. Navarro was a different story. She sucked in her breath and then said a string of things so fast in Spanish that they were incomprehensible. 

"Why don't you sit down, Logan?" Ms. James said.

"Isn't that my line?" Logan said sarcastically. She was on his turf after all, and he didn't want her there. He walked over and braced an elbow against the mantelpiece. Unfortunately, not only could he could see himself quite clearly in the mirror, but the sunlight shining directly in his eyes was making his head pound. 

"I suppose it should be," Ms. James said easily and sat down herself. "How are you?"

"I have a concussion," Logan said and moved, feeling like an old man, to sit on the couch. 

Ms. James looked alarmed. "That accident was three days ago," she said, "Shouldn't you be feeling better by now?"

Her concern seemed sincere, but Logan had been down this road more times than he cared to remember. "Actually, a concussion can take weeks to heal," he said shortly, "and since I'm not supposed to even take an aspirin, being unconscious seemed better than suffering through the headache."

Ms. James watched him for a long moment. "How are you, Logan?" 

He laughed. "Can we just get on with whatever you came here for?"

"I came here to help you," she said levelly. 

Logan pointed at his laptop and his notebooks on the coffee table between them. "Whatever. Just give me back my stuff and let's set up a test schedule."

"Logan," Ms. James said, and when she reached across the table toward him, he tried to control the impulse, but he flinched.

She withdrew her hand slowly. "OK," she said quietly. "How about if I come over here on Wednesday after school, and we'll see how far you've gotten on your assignments." She pulled a file out of her handbag. "I've negotiated with your teachers and we've culled down your work to the essential points that you'll need to cover for the tests."

"Fine," he whispered, wanting her to just leave. He sat there and didn't move, didn't fidget, waiting for her to take her cue.

"Logan," Ms. James said, "I really do want to help you. Is there anything I can do?"

Logan thought it over for a moment. The sound of the cops outside talking as they removed things from the pool house became loud in the silence. "Yeah," he said, "you can find me the names of some good colleges in Australia and New Zealand."

Ms. James laughed, saying, "Well, Logan, at least you haven't lost your sense of humor." She only became uneasy when it had dawned on her that he wasn't smiling at all. "You're serious," she said.

"Why in the hell would I want to stay here?" 

There was another long moment of silence, which Ms. James finally broke by asking, "Don't you have to stay here for the trial?" 

Logan laughed. "Since I had no idea what was going on, I don't see why I should," he said. "You know, the family is always the last to know," he said smarmily.

"I think," Ms. James said carefully, "that you'll probably be called upon to testify for the defense." 

"Oh, I don't think so," Logan countered. "I think that the last thing my father probably wants is me up on that witness stand having sworn to tell the truth, the _whole_ truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God."

Ms. James was looking at him in her quiet, assessing way.

"What about your friends?" she asked.

"What about New Zealand?" Logan countered.

Ms. James looked like she wanted to say something to that, but he kept his gaze steady on her, and she searched his eyes carefully before she placed the file folder on top of his laptop. 

"OK, Logan," she'd agreed, "I'll see what I can do."

She began to gather her things to leave, but stopped and turned back to speak to him before she left. "Logan," she began, "I'm not going to patronize you and tell you that I understand how you feel, because I don't."

He started to thank her, but she held her hand up to silence him, and he let her go on with a sigh.

"However, I do understand what it's like to be betrayed," she paused, "and I know that it has to be at least part of what you're feeling right now." She waited, but when he didn't answer her, she continued on. "Vice Principal Clemmons sent me here because I took a professional vow that prohibits me from ever talking to anyone about our conversations, Logan. You can trust me." 

She waited, but when Logan didn't say anything in response, she sighed and fished around in her bag. "This is my cell phone number. You can call me anytime you want to talk." She laid it on top of the pile of his stuff on the coffee table and stood up. 

"Yeah," Logan breathed out in relief. He just didn't have the desire to be sarcastic; Ms. James was too sincere. "Thanks."

Ms. James left and Logan stared at the remnants of his high school career for a few seconds before Mrs. Navarro came in with the phone, a plate full of sandwiches and an ice pack. 

"I guess you're not mad at me anymore," Logan said, but she just shook her head at him in dismay. "What?" he said to the caller, placing the icepack on his throbbing head.

"The Neptune Police Department is coming over to search the pool house in thirty minutes," Cliff announced, "and hello to you, too, Logan."

"They got here at least twenty minutes ago," Logan said. "And then Clemmons sent over Ms. James to psychoanalyze me, not to facilitate my learning." He was too tired to sketch air quotes around the word. 

There was a pause and then Cliff said, "Actually, I can see why he would send her over."

Logan laughed, "Because I'm just that crazy?"

"No," Cliff said, "because she's bound by her professional confidentiality clauses, so if she ever tells anyone what you talk about, she'll lose her license."

Logan said. "So she informed me. But you know, there's just not that much to tell, frankly."

Cliff was silent.

"It's the old boy meets girl, boy falls in love but girl's fucking his father on the side, father kills girl. Frankly, it's been done to death."

Cliff sighed. 

"Plus the twist with the new girlfriend really pushed the whole suspension of disbelief thing," Logan added.

"Have you talked to her yet?" Cliff asked. 

"Who?" Logan asked sarcastically.

"Veronica," Cliff said. "Short, blonde, dynamic. Answers to the description of your 'new girlfriend'." 

"Used to," Logan said. "And did you miss the part where my father tried to kill both her and her father? It was a little over the top, I grant you, but it is a twist the audience probably didn't see coming." 

"She doesn't blame you for anything, Logan," Cliff said.

"Now," Logan said under his breath, but Cliff just kept talking. 

"You know, Veronica's been having a pretty tough couple of weeks -- her father's had some real problems --" Cliff stopped. "You should just call her."

"What kind of problems?" Logan asked, trying to ignore the twist of guilt in his gut. 

"I thought you weren't interested?" 

"Cliff," Logan warned, "you should probably know that the last thing Keith Mars said to me was to get away from his daughter. Maybe I'm just trying to do what he wanted."

There was a momentary silence. "Keith needs skin grafts," Cliff announced. "But he rejected the test graft."

Logan sucked in a breath. "That ratfucker," he muttered. He knew how much Veronica loved her dad. "I didn't think Mr. Mars was that badly burned."

"From what I understand, it's just a couple of places on his hands that need them," Cliff said. "The skin there is thinner. What I'm trying to say, Logan, is that Veronica's having a hard time, too."

Logan's hands had reflexively balled into fists in sympathetic pain, and he breathed out, trying not to focus on the image of Mr. Mars wading into the middle of a fire to rescue a trapped and screaming Veronica. He wondered if his father had laughed at Mr. Mars. He'd bet the house that he had.

"Logan?" Cliff prompted.

"Yeah," Logan whispered, his voice thin and strained, like he'd been sucking in smoke. 

Cliff sighed. "OK, Logan. I want you to promise me that you're going to go do your homework and go to a part of the house that's at least 100 feet away from the pool house."

"I'll be a good boy," Logan said and hung up. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a flash coming from outside of the house. The cops were supposed to be taking pictures of the pool house and not him, but Logan was sure that pictures of him banged up and looking like he was ready for one of his own bum fights would command a huge price from this week's Star. He stuffed the icepack in his pocket and stacked everything else on his laptop, balancing the sandwiches on top and walked straight out of the room, making sure to keep his back to the windows and his head down. 

Logan let himself back into his mother's room to ensure that he'd have privacy, and put his stack of crap down on the divan, moving the food and the notebooks out of the way. His laptop looked strange with the huge orange 'Evidence' tag on it. It had been signed and dated and was used to seal the keyboard to the screen. He considered peeling it off, but thought that leaving it on his computer would be a good way to remind him of exactly why he needed to get out of this town. He slit the label with his Swiss Army knife and popped it open, turning it on. 

It set up and displayed for a few seconds after he logged in and before the battery died, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of the picture of Veronica that he'd made into his new wallpaper. 

The day he’d taken the picture they’d still been on the dl with their relationship. He’d gotten to her before she went into work and they’d been in his car, laughing and talking. He’d been stealing kisses every chance he got and trying to convince Veronica to blow off work and spend the afternoon with him. 

When she wouldn’t be sweet-talked into doing what he wanted, he’d tried pouting, but she’d only laughed at him and pinched his cheeks like he was five. The ensuing wrestling match had resulted in a lot more kissing, but Veronica still wouldn’t change her mind. Finally, he pulled out his cell phone and announced that if he couldn’t have her with him then he was going to take a picture of her to keep him company while she left him all alone.

She’d told him that he was the biggest Drama Queen that she’d ever met, but finally consented to sit still for the picture. 

Veronica was sitting in the passenger seat of his car facing him, her knees up and her feet on the console between them. She was wearing her pink hooded sweatshirt and her head was tilted to the side. There was sunlight streaming through her hair, which was slightly mussed from his hands. She was smiling at him indulgently, her lipstick long gone because he’d kissed it all away, her blue, blue eyes alight with happiness.

She was looking at him as if she loved him.

"Liar," he whispered, just as the picture winked out.

~*~

When he came back into his mother's room with his power cord, he heard the sound of her TiVo clicking again. He couldn't imagine what in the hell she had recording, but decided that he had to blow it off her timer. Hearing the machine click on and off like that was too eerie for him.

While his laptop rebooted, he settled onto the edge of the divan and turned her TV on. He could hear the police downstairs discussing something and lifted the edge of the drape so he could see what was going on, but dropped it almost immediately. They were trying to take a mattress out through the pool house door -- the last thing he wanted to think about was that bed in the pool house. Ironically, the mattress was tangled on the fugly curtains that had his parents' faces on them. He hated those fucking things, and only hoped the cops would bag them up and take them with them, too. They were evidence of enormously bad taste, if nothing else. 

He opened the program listings to find that there was a solitary listing for "Cooking with Vince". Logan stared at the TV screen. His mother hadn't cooked a meal in years. He heard the ruckus outside lessen, like the sound was moving away from him, just as the TiVo began recording again. He switched over to watch the program that was recording and was immediately confused. The TV screen was divided into four quarters, but three of them were dark. In the remaining square, he couldn't understand what the hell he was seeing. He could hear muffled conversation, but he couldn't understand what was going on, since all the screen was showing was a white block. He turned the volume up, then looked for the ‘stop-record’ button.

“For Christ’s sake!” a voice said. “Just take the curtains down.”

The white square moved and Logan hit ‘stop-record’ just as he realized that what he was seeing was the inside of the pool house. 

“What the fuck?!” Logan said aloud. 

He hit rewind, and watched the mattress return to block the camera, and then watched the mattress lay itself back down on the bed while the cops crouched around it. 

“Oh my God.” Logan breathed out. He only stopped paying attention to what was happening on the TV screen when his computer began to chime with incoming IMs.

"Fuck!" He had no idea who 'news_grrrl' was, but he wasn't about to find out. By the time he blocked her and then put his away notification on, he'd gotten pinged a dozen more times, all of them by strangers. He wondered grimly which one of his so-called friends had given his IM name out to the press. Assholes. 

When he turned back to look at the DVR feed, there was activity in all four windows occurring. It looked like a low-rent version of that movie "Timecode", except this seemed to be the same scene from four different angles. Logan jumped when he saw himself appear on the screen, moving backwards across the screens from four different angles. He was so surprised that he fumbled the remote control trying to stop the recording, actually dropping it under the divan. After retrieving it, he pointed and clicked 'pause' without looking at the TV. Still on his knees next to the divan, Logan looked up and drew in a shocked breath, then almost dropped the remote again at what he was seeing. All four screens were showing the same scene from different angles. 

And in the top right hand corner, blue eyes wide open and staring with a terrified expression into the camera that she had obviously just discovered, was Veronica Mars.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

_I see and I hear  
I realize  
There is nothing to fear  
And  
Something so new  
I arrive out of the darkness  
Into the blue_

_Into the Blue by Ar Kane_

~*~

"Veronica!" Logan's voice was sharp with surprise. On the four screens, Veronica was frozen, kneeling on the bed in the pool house in the red tank top she had been wearing the night of his un-birthday party, her hair up in pigtails. The night that he'd come back to find the pool house empty and her gone, with no explanation. He hit 'play' and watched Veronica's eyes widen further as she drew back away from the camera. 

"Logan!" 

He jumped as Veronica called out to him, but then pressed her hand over her mouth as if to take back the utterance. She looked down and away from the camera. 

"Logan …" she said again, and he could see her hand trembling, could almost see her mind racing as she sat back on her heels. She looked up at the camera that was nearly directly above her, and when Logan looked at the square that corresponded to that camera, he could see that her blue eyes were filled with tears. 

Veronica looked down and scrubbed at her eyes angrily, then got off the bed. Logan watched her move over to the bookcase which, much to his shock, seemed to be open. When she drew it closed, the angle of viewing on one of the screens changed and was now focused on her tense face in close-up. Veronica bent over and picked her jacket up off the floor. She put it on and, carefully avoiding bumping the bed in any way, walked out of the pool house, heading in a direction away from the main house. 

Before the four screens went dark, the camera shot in the lower left hand corner showed the curtain with his father's face on it blowing in the breeze, like it was mocking Logan. An instant later, the cameras switched on one by one as Logan returned to the room and looked around for Veronica.

He looked like such a fool. He'd even looked under the bed for her, thinking that she was just teasing him at first. Logan could barely stand to look at himself, to see the confusion and then defeat in his posture when he realized that she had really gone. He didn't need to watch himself. He remembered exactly how abandoned and confused he had felt, how he'd called and left messages with a growing sense of dread and panic. He couldn't figure out what he had done wrong. In fact, he'd never actually understood it until now. 

He pushed aside dwelling on that evening and focused instead on figuring out where the cameras were. One was obviously in the bookcase that was almost directly opposite the main door into the pool house. One was in the headboard of the bed, and one appeared to be directly opposite it. The last was clearly above the bed, but the block on the TV screen was empty for some of the time Logan was in the room, except for when he was looking under the bed and had put a hand up on top of the mattress while he knelt down next to it. 

"Motion-activated," he said to himself, and rewound the tape again to watch himself come in and proceed around the room, looking for Veronica after putting their drinks down. As he moved around the room, he turned the various cameras on, one after another. It was almost imperceptible until you went frame by frame, but he had turned them on by passing them. 

When he finally left the pool house in defeat, sneaking into his room without going back to the party, there was a momentary blip of black screen, and then Mrs. Navarro suddenly appeared, straightening out the bed in the bright sunshine, dusting and mopping. 

The next scenes were of sheriff's deputies swarming all over the room, and as Logan watched, they immediately went to the camera over the bed and the one in the headboard, seemingly unaware that they were still being taped after those two cameras were removed. He watched, from two angles now, while they looked around the rest of the pool house, searching the vents. This must have been the day that he was at the police station being questioned while the cops searched his room. He'd forgotten that they'd searched the pool house even before the whole truth came out. Radios squawked and the work was slow and boring, so Logan sped through the scenes after watching for a few minutes. 

The last few minutes on the disk were filled with more cops and the more recent searches of the room. They'd finally found the camera in the bookcase in what appeared to be an accident. Then only one square remained as cops dismantled the bed. Logan shut the disk off, but the TV screen was filled with four dark squares. He waited for a while, trying to get the TiVo to record, but the screen stayed dark. Someone must have finally noticed the last camera when they'd leaned the mattress right up against it.

Logan's thoughts were whirling as he pushed the 'rewind' button. His mother had clearly known what his father had been up to in the pool house. She'd not only installed her own cameras, but had also somehow gotten the feed from Aaron's cameras to record up here in her room. All that time, all last fall, he'd believed her when she laid in this room, drunk and depressed, saying that she was watching home movies. She'd always had one playing whenever he'd come into the room, but it wasn't that difficult to figure out how to change over from one video source to another. His mom had always been a bit more technologically adept than Aaron. But this kind of surveillance was far beyond his mother's capacity. 

He stopped the disk as he appeared on the screens and thought long and hard about whether or not he wanted to go back any further. He knew what had happened between him and Veronica that night. Right? 

"Right, Logan …" he said sarcastically. Just like he knew what his mother was doing up here all last fall. Home movies? Only in Bizarro World. God, it was the Echolls Family Freak Show, no matter which way he looked. And here he'd always prided himself on how jaded he was, how little surprised him. And yet, his mother had kept all of this from him, had lied to him over and over. 

Was everybody always just playing him?

He punched the rewind button, and watched Veronica go from frightened to curious to relaxed and … happy? Logan saw himself on the screen and stopped the disk, took a deep breath and pushed 'play'. 

On screen, he walked out of one camera's view, and into the view of the one in the bookcase, hands outstretched to Veronica. In between kisses, he spoke to her, "be right back," more kisses, "two minutes …" and he laid her down on the bed, squeezing her where she was ticklish. 

Veronica laughed and pushed him away, and he disappeared from the screen. 

Logan knelt on the floor in front of the TV and watched, with a dry mouth, as Veronica lay on the bed smiling, crossing her hands on her stomach. She seemed to be almost drifting into a daydream until her eyes focused on the ceiling fan above the bed. In regular speed now, he watched while Veronica became curious and then investigated. He couldn't help the twinge of admiration he felt for her as he watched her find two of the cameras. How many times had he been in the pool house and never noticed a thing? He realized he'd always taken her intelligence for granted. Veronica was an excellent student, but because she was so naïve and sweet when he first knew her, he'd believed that she wasn't smart in any of the ways that really counted. He'd underestimated her, but at least he wasn't the only one. What disturbed him even more was his dawning comprehension that somewhere along the way, he must have absorbed his father's contempt for book smart people. The thought made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He had never wanted to be anything like Aaron. 

On screen now, Logan watched Veronica become frightened, call out to him, then change her mind and disappear. His gut was churning, but he hesitated to pick up the remote and rewind the tape to where they first came into the pool house, didn't know if he could stand to watch himself confess his guilt to her. His headache had returned full force. Veronica hadn't run away from the pool house because of what he'd done to Duncan; she'd run away because she was afraid of him.

Logan sat with his head against his mother's divan for a long time, thinking. He'd like to believe that it wasn't possible for him to feel worse than he did already, but every time that thought crossed his consciousness, there was some new revelation waiting around the corner to bite him in the ass. 

He had never even considered, for a minute, that Veronica was frightened of him until he'd seen it for himself. She'd thought that he was setting her up to be the star of Logan Echolls Porn Theatre. He couldn't summon up enough strength to be really angry with her about her lack of faith in him. They both knew exactly what he was capable of, and if he'd really hated her and had just been playing her, he would have taped her. 

He would have. 

They used to be friends, and then when he hated her, he’d used her as a salt lick. He’d degraded her, and treated her like trash in front of everyone they knew for a year. He’d wanted to hurt her, wanted to punish her because Lilly was dead and because she’d chosen her father instead of him and Duncan, and Lilly. He’d wanted to hurt her for her disloyalty and he’d made sure she knew it. 

‘Congratulations, Logan,’ he thought sourly. ‘Awesome job.’

~*~

When the intercom buzzed, it was a relief to have an excuse to get up off the floor and away from the TiVo. Mrs. Navarro wanted him to know that the police were gone and that he could come out now. Logan thanked her politely, trying not to be a total jackass for once in his life. 

After cleaning up and finally changing his clothes, he returned to his mother’s room. Logan told himself that it was just because it was quieter there, but the TiVo drew him like a magnet, even while he tried to ignore it. He actually finished three math problem sets before he finally caved in and turned on the TV, backing up the disk until he and Veronica walked in the door of the pool house. 

The first time Logan watched them together, he couldn’t bear to listen to himself confess his sins to Veronica. He muted the audio track and just watched the two of them. All he could think was that he should have just shut the fuck up. He was talking from the minute they walked in the door of the pool house, talking in between kisses, even when they fell back on the bed. Veronica had wanted him to shut up. Some part of him even knew that he should shut up. Logan rewound the tape and watched himself move to kiss Veronica even while he still kept talking. He couldn't get over how happy Veronica looked the whole time, how she was kissing him even while he kept talking. He'd convinced himself in retrospect that she was cold and indifferent to him, but watching her now, he had to admit that it didn't look like that was true. Veronica kept kissing him, and Logan watched himself anticipating her kisses before he bobbed and weaved to avoid them so he could confess. 

It made him want to leap into the TV and kick his stupid ass around the pool house and then lock it outside, so that he, the Logan from right now, could just slide back onto the bed and under Veronica. He was such an idiot.

He stopped the disk when he noticed that he had finally shut up. Veronica had reached for his hands while he was confessing and was holding them while she talked to him, something he didn’t remember her doing. He backed the disk up and unmuted it, listening to her telling him that he hadn’t known what would happen when he gave Duncan the GHB, her voice soft and sweet like the Veronica that had existed before Lilly died. He backed the disk up and listened to her forgive him again. She seemed so sincere, talking in her quiet, earnest voice. She hadn't spoken to him like that in, well, ever. And he remembered exactly how nervous he felt when he told her how he never wanted to hurt her. It was important to him that she understood that he'd changed, that he was becoming a better person, a trustworthy person, someone she could be proud to say was her boyfriend. 

He'd been elated and absolutely terrified when she said that she trusted him. She'd kissed him so sweetly that he had finally given in and done what he wanted to all along. He put his hands on her, pulling her slender body to his and really kissing her. Nobody had ever kissed him like Veronica Mars did, pouring her whole self right into it. 

Lilly had been all fire and light, action and reaction. They'd spent a lot of time fighting, and even more time 'making up', but there'd been very little sweetness. Lilly hadn't been the kind of girlfriend who liked to cuddle or who tolerated kisses just for the sake of kisses. She wanted to get right down to it, and hated it when Logan was 'too needy'. Of course, she also loved to make him beg for it. 

Veronica had always been different. He'd watched her with Duncan, saw how sweet she was with him. Duncan used to lay his head in her lap and talk to her and Veronica would sit and listen, touching him like he was precious, like he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. 

He must have wanted her all the way back then, he realized, craved that intimacy and absolute focus that she was so capable of. 

Logan backed up the disk and listened to Veronica again. She sounded so sincere, but he suddenly wished that his mother had put more cameras in the pool house, or at least one that would give him a better angle on Veronica. He wanted to study her face when she was talking to him, to see if he could figure out if she was really telling him the truth. He could only see her profile on the video, and he wanted to watch her again the way he had that night. If he could only rewrite history, he wouldn't have gotten so nervous when she forgave him, when she turned the intensity of her gaze directly on him, really looking at him, really seeing him. Looking into her blue eyes, he'd suddenly felt as if he were the virgin in the room, not her. And maybe he was, he realized. He'd never laid himself open to Lilly like he had to Veronica. He'd trusted Veronica. And it had made him more nervous than he'd ever felt. 

Logan couldn't help the disgust he felt as he watched himself make a run for a bottle of something, anything, to assuage his nerves. If he'd only stayed, everything would be different. 

Logan sat up when it suddenly occurred to him that if he'd stayed, his father might very well have ended up with a tape of him and Veronica having sex for the first time. His blood absolutely ran cold at the idea that Aaron would see Veronica and then want to take her from Logan, too. 

Was that what had happened with Lilly? 

Aaron had always been jealous of anyone who seemed to be getting more attention than him, and particularly hated it when it was Logan. In one of his mother's home movies, there was a scene of Logan just learning to walk. His mother was showing their friends at a dinner party, and one of them had filmed it as she stood Logan up a few steps away from her and then called to him. Everyone had cheered as he stumbled the few steps, shrieking 'Mamamamamama' to be swept joyfully up into his mother's arms. Everyone had cheered, except for Aaron, who could be seen scowling silently in the background. 

The idea of Aaron even thinking about Veronica sexually made Logan want to break everything in the house. He was suddenly thrilled that Veronica had found the cameras. 

Logan stood up and searched the room until he found his wallet next to the divan, then crossed the room to his mother's phone, dialing a number from the card tucked behind his license. 

"DuBois," an electronic voice said to Logan. 

Logan punched in a code. 

"Voice sample," the prompt stated. 

"Logan Echolls," he said clearly.

"Confirmation," the voice intoned, and he heard the line click through.

"Yes, Mr. Echolls," a woman's voice said, "how can I help you?"

"Tell Gavin to call me back," Logan answered, then added a hasty, "please," before he hung up. 

He found his cell phone under the divan and turned it on for the first time in days. He had no messages.

Logan paced the room nervously for a few minutes, then sat down and submitted his completed problem sets via e-mail, hesitating before toggling over to his Gmail interface and logging in. His mailbox was stuffed full of porn spam and what looked like interview requests. He scanned down the list of senders impassively, trying to tell himself that he shouldn't expect to see an e-mail from Veronica. She hadn't left a phone message in days, so he tried not to hope, but he paged back a screen and there she was. He could feel his heart pounding as he clicked open the e-mail she'd written him last Friday.

_To: Surf_dog_logan@gmail.com  
From: PI_Pride@gmail.com_

_Logan,_

_I know that you said that you needed time to do whatever, and I'm trying to respect that, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I accused you of killing Lilly. This would be a lot easier if I could just tell you face-to-face, but since that doesn't seem like it's going to happen anytime soon, I guess this is the best alternative._

_It would also be easier if I could just say that if I could take things back, that I would do them differently, but that's really not true. There are a lot of things that happened that you don't know about. That's not an excuse, but it's at least part of an explanation for why I became suspicious._

_Everybody knows now that there were cameras in your pool house, but what they don't know is that I found them the night of your surprise party. I'll be honest with you, Logan. I didn't know if you knew about those cameras and it made me nervous that you had set me up. I know that you think that I should have trusted you, but the truth is that everybody had lied to me so much that it became almost impossible for me to figure out who was telling me the truth._

_I wanted to trust you -- I wanted to believe that you had told me the whole truth about Shelley's party because you wanted there to be no secrets between us, but I couldn't just believe you because I wanted it to be true. I knew that there was a possibility that you had lied to the police, and to me, about your alibi and the fact that you had lied to me already made me wonder what else you had lied about._

_The one thing that I do regret is how much you've been hurt by everything that's happened. I want you to know that I had no idea what Lilly was doing. I know that you probably won't believe me, but I would have told you if I knew. I would have._

_I wish that you would call me._

_Veronica_

Minutes later, when Logan answered his ringing cell phone, he could still taste the salt on his lips.

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue  
I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue

Into the Blue by Moby

~*~

Many people who have lived through a traumatic event tend to think of time as being segmented into 'Before' and 'After' phases. Logan wouldn't disagree with the classification, but he was aware that it would probably surprise people that 'Before' didn't end when People magazine or "Access Hollywood" thought it had, which was either when Lilly was killed, or when Veronica discovered that it was Aaron who had murdered her. Those made-for-the-TV-movie moments were certainly defining ones in Logan's life, but like most Hollywood adaptations, they failed to recognize the importance of a small, private moment. 'Before' had really ended weeks ago on a Monday morning when Logan woke up to the sound of his mother's TiVo turning on and off and decided to investigate why it was happening. 

Planning for what would become 'After' began when Logan realized that the careful words that his mother had written into her will, the ones that left him her art collection and all of her 'personal effects in the house,' represented a way out for him, a clear path away from Aaron. It was a path his mother had not chosen to take for herself, and Logan would never understand why, but it was not a mistake that he was going to make. He might be his mother's son, but he didn't have to emulate her. He could learn from her. He could make different choices. And if he had thought everything through enough, 'After' was going to begin today. 

Logan had been awake for hours, too nervous to sleep longer than the bare minimum his body required. His night time hours had been taken up by stress dreams of one sort or another for the past couple of weeks. The recurring one that he remembered most clearly revolved around him packing for a trip. Veronica kept asking him if he had everything, and he kept answering that he thought he did, but he still felt compelled to look under the furniture and into closets, opening drawers and searching endless rooms full of junk. It wasn't until he had woken up this morning that he recalled that there had been a fire burning in the distance in his dreams, and that some of the rooms were spattered with blood. During the dream, he barely noticed those things, since he was too intent upon finding the thing that he feared he'd forgotten. 

The thing is, he didn't know what it was that he'd forgotten, only that he was sure that there was something that he'd overlooked, some piece of information that would bring down all of his plans like a house of cards. He'd wake up with his heart pounding in anxiety and a dry mouth. He'd fruitlessly try to calm himself down and go back to sleep, but his mind would race. Eventually, he would fall into an uneasy sleep, often hearing the sound of Lilly's mocking laughter. He never saw Lilly in his dreams anymore, but she lurked around the edges, whispering dark secrets that he couldn't quite hear, reflecting off the surfaces of things like the shadow of a bird flying across a window. Too often, the only way that he could calm himself was by watching the TiVo of Veronica and himself in the poolhouse. 

He couldn't count the number of times he'd watched it in the weeks since he'd first found the recording, but somewhere along the way he'd begun to feel like a voyeur, and a coward. He could watch Veronica on the TV screen and salve the ache of missing her through listening to her voice and remembering her kisses, but he couldn't make himself call her. He'd found himself stymied by the reply function of his e-mail, leaving the screen open on his computer for hours at a time, staring at it with a dry throat, totally blank, the same way he'd find himself sitting with his phone in his hand, staring at the blue screen that said 'Veronica' on it. All he'd have to do is move his thumb just a half an inch and press, and her phone would ring. He was sure she'd answer. 

But whenever he tried to visualize what would happen next, his imagination would stutter to an abrupt halt. What was he going to say -- "Hello?" "Hey?" "Veronica?" -- it all just sounded lame and ridiculous to him. He knew he was paralyzed, but he couldn't seem to snap of it. He tried to convince himself that he was just waiting to call her until he had a killer opening line, but even he knew that he was lying.

Sometimes, he wished that she would just call him, imagined that he'd hear his phone playing 'Watching the Detectives', the ring tone he'd assigned to her. It would be so much easier to just respond, but … easy wasn't really going to cut it in this situation. Easy wasn't really what he and Veronica were. He only hoped that when he did speak to her, that she would forgive him for his cowardice, and for taking the time he needed to do what was necessary without any outside distractions. He hoped that she, of all people, would understand the importance of achieving an objective, no matter what. 

He'd learned a lot from Veronica Mars -- was still learning from her. He might be stuck in frustrated silence, but she'd seized upon the medium of e-mail, and written him a few since the first one. He knew enough about her to surmise that she was tracking whether or not he read them. She'd even admitted as much in her third e-mail. Each missive had told him some new facts he didn't know or could hardly have imagined. He couldn't fault her for telling him the whole truth no matter how disturbing -- was grateful that she was talking to him, despite the sting of surprise that her news always seemed to give him. He wondered if he would ever get to the point in his life where he wouldn't be surprised by the rotten things that people did to those they claimed to love. Logan had always thought that his family's specialty was ugly secrets, but it seemed to him now that it was a Neptune-wide problem. When it came right down to it, there were a lot of things about Neptune that he would not miss, but Veronica Mars was no longer one of them. 

Ever since he read the lines where she vowed that she would have told him of Lilly's faithlessness, he'd felt a sense of relief. It seemed that Veronica Mars, as smart as she was, had misread a lot of people. It was somehow comforting to know that Lilly had fooled them both. What was truly sad was that she wasn't the only one. Veronica hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said in her first e-mail that everybody had been lying to her. Logan, who had always prided himself on his capacity to think the worst about people, would never have imagined the Passions-like scenarios that she'd laid out for him. 

He'd re-read the sentences where she told him that her mother and Duncan's father had been having an affair for years as if memorizing the words would make them more comprehensible. Some part of him still could not accept that Mr. Kane was a liar and a cheat, just like Aaron. Logan had always compared everybody else's father to his own, had a kind of rating system for them. Keith Mars was a little too strict for Logan's taste, not to mention the quiet, penetrating stare that he'd perfected that made Logan feel like Keith could see right inside him to where all of his darkest secrets lurked. Most of his other classmates' parents were clueless, or didn't care what their kids were doing as long as it didn't involve too much money, potential jail time or embarrassing headlines, but Jake Kane? Jake Kane was the cool dad. Jake Kane was the dad who let them drink a couple of beers at the pool, as long as everybody slept over. Jake Kane was the dad who'd let his son's friends beta-test new software, and who seemed interested in their opinions of it. Jake Kane was the dad who pulled Logan aside and told him that he hoped he was being respectful of Lilly, and sternly told him to use condoms. 

Lilly had always maintained that her parents treated her like she was a bomb that they were expecting to go off, but Logan had always felt that Jake admired Lilly's sharp tongue, that he was secretly proud of how she ruled over 09er society. Of course, Jake had also allowed Celeste to harangue and harass Duncan and Lilly about hanging around with 'inappropriate companions' like Veronica Mars, but Jake had always seemed very fond of Veronica. Logan had thought that Jake hoped that some of Veronica's sweetness might rub off on Lilly, dull that tart edge that she was so prone to flaunt. He had never in a million years imagined that Jake Kane's interest in Veronica might be more personal, that perhaps Jake saw in Veronica the daughter he could have had. 

All those years that Logan and Lilly had made fun of Celeste and imitated her mouth pursed in perpetual disapproval, he'd never thought that he'd see the day that he'd feel bad for her, even if it was only a momentary spasm of sympathy. If anyone in Neptune knew how it felt to be the one who was cheated on, the one who loved more and received less back for it, it was Logan. Celeste might be a snob and a bad mother, but maybe he understood her a little bit more, recognized where some of her bitter edge might have come from. 

He wondered, too, if he understood more of Lilly's bitterness. It seemed that in the final analysis, Lilly had been absolutely right about which of their children her parents would choose. Even if they'd thought Duncan was a murderer, the Kanes had still chosen protecting their son over getting justice for their daughter's murder. Not only had they been wrong, but because they'd destroyed the crime scene, it was quite possible that Aaron would never serve time for Lilly's murder. As much as Logan was angry at Lilly for everything that she had done to him, all of the lies and the ways in which she'd betrayed him, he couldn't help but feel the absolute wrongness of that. Veronica's e-mails had a measured tone when she talked about Lilly's murder case -- but he could read the bitterness that she felt between the lines. She'd wanted to find Lilly's murderer and to set things right, but the truth was that nothing could ever really set it right. 

Logan even felt a twinge for Duncan, now that he knew that the Kanes had believed that Duncan was Lilly's killer, but it didn't last long. Maybe it was selfish, but Logan couldn't help feeling betrayed by how much Duncan had lied to him. He unfolded Veronica's third e-mail and looked at it blindly. He'd read it enough times, but the words never changed. 

_The thing is, Celeste told Duncan that I was his sister, and that's why he broke up with me. I didn't find this out until very recently, but I'm sure you had no idea about any of this._

Nope. He'd had no fucking idea, although it did go a long way toward explaining some of the furtive, whispered conversations that Lilly and Duncan had had shortly before Lilly was killed. Lilly had told him that Duncan and Veronica were over, but that she wasn't going to give up Veronica as a friend, and that it was important that Logan be Duncan's friend. He remembered how stung he'd felt by the comment at the time, as if he would do anything other than support Duncan, his best friend. After all, even if he wouldn't tell Logan why, Duncan must have had a good reason for dumping Veronica. Duncan was a good guy, the original good guy, Neptune's Golden Boy.

It was just lucky for Golden Boy that he hadn't called Logan for the past two months, because Logan didn't know if he could express himself adequately with words. The temptation to use his fists might be too overwhelming for him to withstand; he might have had to go all Echolls on Duncan's ass. 

Logan couldn't believe that he'd wasted time feeling guilty that he'd ever met Duncan. After all, if he'd never met Duncan or Lilly, they never would have met Aaron. Everything would have been all right -- Lilly would have lived, and Duncan and Logan would have gone on with their separate lives as the Golden Boy and the Fuck Up, respectively. But, they'd met and it had all gone to shit, and then Logan had broken the cardinal rule of friendship and fallen in love with his best friend's girl. Even though Duncan had thrown her away, Logan was supposed to respect the rule and never have anything to do with Veronica. Breaking that unwritten rule was what had ended his friendship with Duncan, right?

Except it seemed to Logan now that Duncan had broken a lot more than an unrealistic rule when he thought about Veronica and Shelley Pomeroy's party. Logan could barely stand to remember Veronica's face when she told him that she'd been raped, seeing the anger that barely masked the pain. She'd told him how Lamb had humiliated her and he knew how much he had piled on, could still hear the echoes of the words that he'd said to her ringing in his ears. Logan thought that maybe if he started apologizing now, by the time he was ninety he'd have said it enough times. 

But Logan also remembered how Veronica had dismissed her own pain once she knew the truth of what had happened between her and Duncan. Veronica was an odd mixture of forgiveness and vengeance, and while Logan was selfish enough to hope that this would work in his own favor, that didn't mean that he had to forgive Duncan, or himself. Logan remembered all the cruelty that Veronica had endured, and not just at his hands, and Duncan's implacable countenance as the weeks and months had gone by. All in all, it was a good thing that the Golden Boy hadn't called or come over. 

The phone in his hand reminded him that it was time to get the show on the road and he got up to leave his mother's room. As he passed the intercom, it buzzed and he let Mrs. Navarro know that he was on his way downstairs.

The kitchen was unusually busy for this time of day. The hallway was lined with suitcases and trunks which Logan observed with a sense of sly satisfaction. He could hear Trina in the distance giving instructions as he walked into the kitchen and greeted Mrs. Navarro and Ari, his father's chief of security.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully to them both, then addressed Ari. "Just let me get some food to take with me and I'll be ready to go."

Ari consulted his watch. "No need to rush," he said, "the traffic is pretty light this morning and the drive isn't that long. Although I really think we should take another car."

"Not mine, you mean," Logan said, piling food on a plate. He could hear Trina yelling at the luggage handlers about damaging her trunk. He rolled his eyes at Mrs. Navarro and she hid a smile. 

"I'd feel better if we used a performance vehicle, yes," Ari said.

"We're just going to my appointment and then you're dropping me off at school later," Logan said. "Plus, I think that between your precautions and Aaron's lawsuits that there's been a real drop in the numbers of 'razzi. They aren't really following me the same way anymore."

Ari sighed. "Not following you to your lawyer's office is one thing, Logan. Do I have to remind you what happened the last time you went to school?"

"School has been over for more than a week, Ari," Logan reminded him. "Only the stragglers like me who are turning in their last assignments to the diehard teachers will be there. It's going to be fine," he said as he heard Trina coming up the hall. "We should just go." He was really too nervous to eat and he wanted to get by Trina with a minimum of fuss, if that were even possible.

"Logan!" Trina was yelling as she walked into the kitchen.

"I'm standing right here, Trina," he chided her. "Are you all loaded up?"

Much to his chagrin, Trina looked like she was going to cry. "I'm not sure I should leave you on your own." 

"Trina," he said in a soothing tone of voice, "you got a supporting role in a major motion picture. Not an under five, but a real part." 

Trina was already smiling through her tears. "I know, I know…"

"It's Wolfgang Pedersen, Trina, a real director. We've been through this," Logan said, neglecting to mention how shooting historical dramas usually dragged on and on, even for the small parts. With any luck, Trina would be gone until Christmas. 

"I'm just not sure that Daddy would approve of me leaving you alone," she said quietly.

Logan laughed. "Trina! It's Wolfgang Pedersen! Aaron would insist that you go! Besides, he only just started rehab, and you know how they are about phone calls when people are settling into the program." He could have kicked himself, as Trina's face clouded over at the mention of rehab. "Look," he said hastily, "Aaron is doing what he needs to do to take care of himself and didn't you tell me that he told you he wanted you to be happy?"

"Since when do you care about me being happy?" Trina asked sharply.

"Fine," Logan said, and literally threw up his hands. "Stay here and blow the opportunity of a lifetime. I guess I'll see you later." He picked up his schoolbooks and a Pop Tart and walked around her toward the front hall. He could see the Xterra idling outside. 

"Logan!" Trina yelled. 

He stopped walking. 

"I just need to make sure that you're going to be OK," she said. 

"I won't be if I'm late for my test," he said shortly, biting down sharply on all the bitter things he could have said. He'd come too far to blow this now. "Clemmons will have my ass."

"Logan," Trina said, softly.

"I'm fine, Trina," he answered. "Break a leg, OK?"

She gave him a tearful wave and Logan managed not to shake his head ruefully at her acting. She probably actually thought that she was being sincere. He would never understand his family.

His phone rang as Ari pulled out of the gates, and he connected to hear Cliff's melodic tone. "Are you on your way?" he asked.

"Yeah," Logan said, "See you soon."

Only the hardiest of Aaron's fans remained outside the gate and only one of them even acknowledged Logan's presence, rushing over to the passenger window to wave her 'Free Aaron!' banner at Logan. She got to within ten feet of the car before Ari's team moved her away. "I wonder if she even realizes that voluntarily checking in to a five-star rehab to be treated for sex addiction is not the same as doing hard time," he remarked to Ari.

Ari shrugged.

"You are a font of wisdom as usual," Logan said. He tried to relax and settle back into the seat, but even after having done this for weeks, it was hard to get used to being a passenger. "Any followers?" he asked. 

"One," Ari answered. "But we'll be losing him in the next quarter mile."

Logan nodded and leaned back, letting his eyes drift closed. He had every confidence that Ari's team would work their magic. He patted his breast pocket and heard the crinkle of paper under his over shirt. He knew it was stupid of him to bring Veronica's e-mails with him -- if Ari's security team failed, someone could get ahold of them. But then again, Gavin DuBois Inc. hadn't become the world's leading personal security firm by letting things happen to their clients. 

"It must have killed you to buy more Xterra's in this color," Logan remarked to Ari conversationally.

"Mr. DuBois felt it was a prudent move, since you insist on using your own car," Ari said in an even tone. "Your father, of course, is paying the rental fees." 

Logan smiled.

The car was silent for a full minute as they turned a corner and Ari pulled off the road and behind a gate of one of the many mansions in Logan's neighborhood. 

Logan caught just a glimpse of the decoy XTerra that was now driving down the street. It would end its journey at Cliff's office, where 'Logan' would get out and go inside to spend the next few hours while 'Ari' waited, then 'Ari' would drive 'Logan' to Neptune High. 

The sat there silently, as Ari, never much of a conversationalist to begin with, listened intently to radio chatter that was being piped into his earpiece. A black BMV 700 series sedan drove up next to them, and Logan got out when Ari nodded, moving to the backseat of the new car. Ari swapped places with the BMW driver. 

"I'm not entirely sure that all of this playacting was necessary," Ari remarked when they were underway.

"You don't know my sister," Logan answered. "I can't take the chance that she had me followed. Besides, I want to drive my own car later." He closed his eyes and settled back into the leather seat for the drive into San Diego.

~*~

_Logan,_

_I know that you're reading my e-mails. I know that you open them as soon as they land in your inbox. Why won't you write me back?_

_Veronica_

~*~ 

Logan could still feel Ari's simmering disapproval as the outer office doors closed. He could hear the rumble of Cliff's voice from the conference room down the hall, and he stopped, ducking into the restroom to make a call before he joined him.

"Logan?" a voice asked.

"Yes," he answered. 

"Hold on!" the woman said, and clicked away from him. She clicked back after Logan had made three revolutions around the small room, grateful that he was alone in here and couldn't be observed. 

"How are you, Logan?" she asked.

"I'm OK, Janey," Logan answered. "Trina left this morning, and I wanted to thank you."

"You already thanked me, Logan," she said briskly, but he knew she appreciated the call. "I want you to know that I would never have lifted one finger, not one finger, to help her unless you asked me to."

"I know," Logan said.

"All those years, all the crap that she gave your mother," Janey's voice was rising in anger. "And she's not very talented. It's only because of her notoriety that anyone would take her."

"I know," Logan said.

"Your mother was a real talent," Janey paused, and Logan heard her light a cigarette. "She had such a sparkle to her when I first met her -- it's hard to imagine that it was over twenty years ago now that I got her first deal. And it's so hard to remember … " She sighed. "This business, Logan. It's bad for people who aren't smart."

"I know," Logan said. 

"I know you're a smart boy, Logan. Lynn always said you were special and she was right. I did this for you, so that you could do … whatever it is that you're doing." 

Logan smiled at the phone. "Jane Donner," he said in a warmly mocking tone "if Variety could hear you right now you'd lose your 'Hollywood Cannibal' title."

She barked out a laugh. "Nice try at distracting me, Logan. I wasn't fishing."

Logan snickered into the phone, "Much."

"As long as you promise to tell me someday, that's all I ask. Be careful, Logan."

"I am," he said. "I'm being very careful, and smart."

"That's all I can ask," she said. "That no-talent spawn of your bastard father will be away at least until you go back to school. 

"Thank you," Logan said. 

"So, no more pictures of you swimming in the buff in the family pool will be showing up in my copy of the Enquirer, yes?" Janey asked tartly.

"You didn't like the view?" Logan teased.

Janey barked again, "Believe it or not, I've seen it before. In fact, the first time I saw your plumbing was when your mother was diapering your little behind on this very desk." 

He could hear her banging on the surface as she cackled and he huffed out a laugh.

"No, Logan, the very idea of that little tramp making money off of you makes me ill."

Logan laughed. "Well, she'll be in the mountains of the Czech Republic by day's end."

"The cold and rainy mountains," Janey added. "I hope she has a miserable shoot, God forgive me."

Logan could hear Cliff out in the hall, "I have to go, Janey."

"Don't be a stranger, Logan," Janey warned. "If you ever change your mind about the business, you better not call anybody else."

Logan put his hand over his heart, even though Janey couldn't see him. "I would never do that to you, Janey."

"Hmmph," she sniffed, "You better not. Be good."

The line went dead in Logan's ear and he shut the phone off and snapped it shut, putting it in his pants pocket. He stared at himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked pale from having spent most of the past month indoors, but he didn't look too unhealthy. His bruises were long gone. He smoothed his shirt and heard the reassuring crinkle of Veronica's e-mails. He didn't need to read them anymore to remember what they said, but having them with him today was like holding a talisman against evil. 

Logan looked himself in the eye and willed himself to be strong, to be smart, and not to lose his temper. "Showtime," he said to his reflection, and then he turned and walked out the door. 

~*~

_To: PI_Pride@gmail.com  
From: Surf_dog_logan@gmail.com_

_I honestly don't know what to say._

~*~

"How are you, Logan?" Cliff asked. It might have been Logan's hyperactive imagination, but he thought Cliff might be sweating just a little bit. 

"I'm good. I'm ready for this," Logan said, and he hoped he didn't sound like he was trying to convince himself. "Are you?"

"This is really your show, Logan," Cliff said worriedly. 

Logan smiled. "That's exactly what it is, Cliff. It's all a show -- but it's a really big shoe," he added, in a horrible Ed Sullivan imitation.

Cliff rolled his eyes at Logan, but Logan could see that he had relaxed. "Please avoid co-opting cultural icons from my childhood, would you? It's just wrong." 

"Sure, fine, whatever," Logan answered amiably, but Cliff totally missed the reference. "So, this is the set-up, huh?" Logan asked rhetorically, looking around the small conference room. A flat-screen computer monitor stood at the center of the oval table with a boomerang shaped black device next to it. The screen was facing the three chairs on one side of the table. The shades on the window behind had been drawn so that Logan and Cliff could see the screen more clearly. Right now, it was broadcasting a view of an empty chair with a large potted plant behind it. "Are we live?"

"We're muted," Cliff said, "but we're connected." He pointed to the stacks of files and a box on the tables. "I don't know how you want to organize those." 

"My props?" Logan said lightly, but went over to look at the piles. He emptied the box of mini-tapes onto the table and stacked them up into two piles with the labels facing him. "Is the camera on the top of the screen?"

"Yes," Cliff said. "Which side do you want to be on?"

"The right one," Logan said, studying the console. "It'll be a nice change of pace for me."

Cliff adjusted his tie and collar reflexively, and Logan could see that he was taking it all in, and calming himself down. Cliff finished his adjustments and turned his attention to Logan, and Logan could almost feel Cliff taking the measure of his mood as he studied Logan with an unreadable expression on his face. "For what it's worth, Logan, I think you are doing the right thing."

"Thanks," Logan said quietly. "I actually do appreciate you being here with me."

Cliff shook his head. "I still say that you could have found yourself a more qualified representative for this enterprise," he said. "This really isn't my area of expertise."

"This isn't about expertise," Logan said, then cut himself short. He didn't know how to tell Cliff that he couldn't trust anyone else not to sell him out. Or that the reason that he knew he could trust Cliff was because if Cliff ever did sell Logan out, Veronica Mars would have his balls mounted on a brass plate on the wall behind her desk as a warning to others. He was pretty sure Cliff knew that already, anyway.

Cliff looked at his watch, and then sat down. "Where is he?"

Logan laughed. "Waiting to make an entrance, of course." He went over and got a Mountain Dew off the credenza, waving the refreshment at Cliff, who shook his head. "You obviously don't know Aaron Echolls."

Cliff looked over at the stack of files that were next to Logan's empty chair. "If you don't mind me saying so, Logan, I feel that I know much more than I ever wanted to."

"Sorry," Logan said. He sat down and looked over at Cliff. "He'll come in now that he sees I'm here," he said. He reached over and turned the microphone on.

"Are you just about finished with your schoolwork?" Cliff asked.

"Yeah," Logan said, "I have a couple of more things to turn in, but I've taken all of my finals. Thanks again for making the arrangements on the attendance. It's really helped a lot."

"No problem," Cliff said smoothly, "that is my job. Classes ended last week, right?"

Logan nodded, keeping his eyes on Cliff, but out of the corner, he could see the plant moving on the computer screen. He flicked his eyes at Cliff and knew that he'd made the same observation. Logan forced himself to exhale through his nose, willing himself not to tense up. "Yeah," he answered Cliff, managing to keep his voice level. He could do this. He was the son of actors. "Today is actually the last day the building will be open until mid-August." 

"Cutting it close, my friend. Now, any plans for the summer?" Cliff asked easily, keeping the patter going. "I'm hoping to get up north to the mountains myself."

"I'm not really sure --" Logan began, but stopped when he saw Aaron's torso in front of the camera. Aaron was using crutches to walk, the old-fashioned kind that had a bracelet that came up and gripped the wrist. Someone pulled the chair away from the conference table and Aaron eased himself gingerly into the seat. Logan was struck not only by how frail Aaron looked, but how old he seemed. It was the first time he ever remembered seeing Aaron without a tan, and his pale face was lined with wrinkles that Logan was cruel enough to hope had been caused by extreme physical pain. It surprised Logan that Aaron hadn't had his wrinkles eradicated with Botox, but Aaron was shrewd enough to know that evidence of his suffering would make him more sympathetic to a jury. That probably explained his choice of braces as well. 

"Logan," Aaron said, after he'd finally settled into his seat with a pained expression, "it's so good to see you, son." Aaron's voice was full of warmth and sincerity that Logan knew was patently false. 

Logan remembered how upset he'd been when Aaron had been stabbed at Christmas, just six months ago. How despite everything that was wrong with their relationship, he was frightened by the thought of his father's death. 

Those thoughts and feelings seemed utterly alien to him now.

"Aaron," Logan said. He had to admire the control that Aaron maintained over his features at Logan's neutral tone and his casual use of his first name. Aaron hated to be disrespected almost as much as he hated to be ignored. Only the most subtle downturn of Aaron's mouth let Logan know that his first punch had landed.

"How have you been, son?" Aaron asked. It seemed he was determined to play the concerned father to the hilt. 

"You know, I've actually been OK," Logan said, then added thoughtfully, "it seems that they were right after all."

"They?" Aaron asked in a puzzled tone. His eyes shifted momentarily away from the camera and back to Logan, an appeal to someone in the room that had yet to be introduced. 

"You know, 'them'," Logan said easily, sketching the last word in quotes. 

Aaron shook his head at Logan, his expression conveying confusion and that tinge of hurt that Logan remembered him perfecting for "Breaking Point". 

Logan smiled. "You see, it turns out that the truth really does set you free." He dropped his arm down onto a pile of folders and pulled them over into the camera's view. 

"Logan, son," Aaron began, then interrupted himself. "Do we have to have this conversation with a stranger in the room?"

"I think it's a good idea to have my lawyer here," Logan said. 

"Your lawyer?" Aaron said, glancing at Cliff for a microsecond before his gaze returned to Logan. "You're a minor, Logan. You can't have legal representation without my permission." This time, he looked directly at Cliff. "I'll have your license if you've done anything --"

Logan interrupted him. "Would you like to go to a judge and get an actual legal opinion on that, Aaron?" He pushed the files toward Cliff and pulled the mini-tapes over, leaning forward to rest his chin on them. "I think that would be a really interesting idea."

Aaron stared at the tapes and then glanced off-camera again.

"Why don't you ask your lawyer to join us, Aaron?" Logan said. "I'm sure he's dying to see what you're looking at."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aaron said stonily. 

"Oh, c'mon!" Logan laughed. "Don't make me mouse over and see if I can guess who it is from the reflection in your eyes. We're recording this anyway."

Aaron started. "What do you mean, we're recording this?"

"Exactly what I said," Logan answered. "I'm having this recorded on my end and you sure as shit got somebody on your end to record this feed for you at Promises. Probably that lawyer you keep looking at every thirty seconds. Come out, come out, wherever you are." Logan sang. 

After a couple of seconds, a dark-haired man in his thirties wearing a good suit sat down next to Aaron, although Logan could barely see his face. Aaron had always been a camera hog. 

"Why don't you introduce your friend to the camera?" Logan asked. "This is Cliff McCormack, by the way."

Aaron's lawyer leaned into the camera shot. "Jordan Lawrence," he said, "for Robert Shapiro."

"Tsk, tsk," Logan chided, "already being subbed off to the second string, Aaron?" 

Aaron's expression darkened and Logan felt another thrill of triumph. 

"Mr. Shapiro is actually hard at work preparing your father's case," Lawrence said swiftly. "He didn't think it was the most appropriate use of his time for him to come down here and intrude on Mr. Echolls' private meeting with his son."

"Well," Logan smirked, "he may change his mind about that later, but by then it'll be too late."

"What is this all about, Logan?" Aaron said testily, then stopped himself. "I'm sorry, Logan. I know that you have every good reason to be angry with me. We do have a lot of things to discuss."

"Oh, ho, ho!" Logan chortled, and turned to Cliff. "Didja hear that one?" Turning back to the screen, he said, "You know, Aaron, it really is a shame that no one will ever actually realize just how much of an awesome actor you are."

Aaron kept his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes were snapping with restrained fury. 

"I mean, your best performances were usually saved for family, and mostly just for my mother's benefit." Logan continued thoughtfully, "Although, I guess that the people at Promises will be seeing one of your better performances when you start to 'share' in group." 

Aaron's lawyer dropped a restraining arm on Aaron and leaned into the cameras view. "Logan," he said paternally, "I think we all understand that you are upset with your father …"

"Don't patronize me, Jord-o," Logan snapped, "you have no fucking idea what I'm upset about. You've only seen the tip of the iceberg. Why don't you sit back, shut the fuck up and take notes? Then you can sum up at the end and give an accurate accounting to Mr. Shapiro."

"Son," Aaron began in his 'Father Knows Best' warning voice.

"Don't bother, Papa," Logan snapped back. "I won't be taking any more instruction from you. Has it occurred to either of you geniuses to ask exactly where Cliff and I are at the moment?"

"I just assumed you were in his office," Aaron said, pointing at Cliff. He exchanged a worried glance with Lawrence.

"No," Logan said, "We're in the offices of the private detective agency that my mother hired."

A flicker passed across Aaron's face. 

"You remember my mother, don't you, Aaron?" Logan said. "The woman you treated like dirt and humiliated for years before you drove her to her death?"

"It wasn't like that, Logan," Aaron said softly. He had the gall to look pained. 

"Whatever, Aaron," Logan said. "The point is -- you should have paid more attention to the terms of mom's will. It turns out that her personal effects were much more interesting than the shoes and Hermes handbags that Trina was so interested in."

Aaron's brow was creased, but it was his lawyer who spoke. "Whose office are you in?" he asked directly. He reached out and tilted the computer screen so that he could see Logan more clearly. Logan enjoyed the flash of annoyance that crossed Aaron's features.

"Vincent Calabrese's," Logan said, taking care to pronounce the complex last name carefully. He watched as Aaron received the name with indifference, which was not shared by his attorney. "You don't remember Vince, do you?" Logan asked Aaron. "He was Anthony Pellicano's right hand man at one time."

Aaron shook his head with a 'so' kind of gesture.

"Anthony Pellicano, the wiretap king?" Logan prompted. He tapped the pile of tapes in front of him. "You see, Aaron, my mom knew all about your little set-up in the poolhouse." Aaron's eyes widened and he lurched forward a bit in his seat. "In fact, she even expanded upon it. Not just your two cameras, but two more of her very own."

"That lying …" Aaron began sotto voce, but his lawyer's restraining hand cut off the end of his sentence.

"Oh, don't even bother, Jord-o," Logan said, "it's not like he's saying anything new. He'd say it to her face. In fact," he began shuffling through the cases and pulled one out, "he says that and far, far worse in this dub I had made from the original recording of October 2003." 

Jordan was blinking nervously at the tape in Logan's hand. Logan helpfully held the label up to the eye of the camera.

"October 2003 was a busy, busy month for your client," Logan said smoothly. "Oh, and don't worry. My mother doesn't actually accuse him of screwing Lilly Kane. And unfortunately, it seems that mom didn't get her cameras into position until after he killed Lilly."

Aaron started to object, but Logan rolled his eyes and moved on. "Please, Aaron, we all know you did it. Even your high-priced suit knows you did it. What he doesn't know is what I've got on these tapes. So, let me sum up: I've got your client fucking two to three dozen different women, including a maid that I'm pretty sure was underage and a couple of other girls that look like, well, girls. Not that that makes any difference to Aaron. How old was Lilly when you started 15? 16?"

"Your father's admission of sex addiction and his treatment for it is on the record." Jordan jumped right in, keeping Aaron from speaking. "Besides, it's illegal to tape participants without their knowledge, and no judge would allow those tapes into evidence."

"Oh, who cares about the court?" Logan asked. "Aaron doesn't give a shit about that. But what I have in my hands here -- Aaron Echolls having sex with the help, not to mention the daughters and wives of his neighbors and friends? Game over. No moviegoer will ever buy his family act again."

"You wouldn't dare," Aaron said.

"Why wouldn't I?" Logan challenged.

"You need my money," Aaron said bluntly. "What your mother left you won't even cover your drinks for the first semester at college, if you get into one."

"Gloves off now, huh, Papa?" Logan said cheerfully. "Once again, though, you really should have paid more attention to what my mother's will said." Logan reached over and pulled a stack of files in front of him. "Mom's art collection?" He paused. "Worth millions."

Aaron's jaw was clenched and he was blinking. "Everything that's in that house belongs to me." 

"Actually," Logan said, "a lot of her artwork isn't in the house. It's in a secure location. And the stuff that is in the house? Is mine. These files prove that. She had Vince's people making sure that it was all protected from you." 

"So?" Aaron said. "You have a few crummy paintings and some purses, so what? You're still not an adult." He leaned forward. "I could send you to military school if I felt like it, or the French fucking Foreign Legion."

Logan smiled at Jordan. "I'm so happy that you're here to share in this warm Echolls family moment."

Cliff finally spoke, moving a stack of files that was next to him into the camera's view. "You do anything whatsoever to Logan and I guarantee you that everything that is in these files will be made public."

"Oh?" Aaron said mockingly, "and what's in those files? More evidence of my sexual prowess?"

"No," Cliff said. "They're your application for Father of the Year." Aaron's face registered surprise that Cliff was daring to taunt him. "Your late wife seems to have gone to a great deal of expense to track down every medical record of Logan's."

Aaron's attorney's eyes were darting back and forth between Logan and Aaron, who were locked in a game of eyeball chicken. 

"You're bluffing," Aaron said to Logan. He looked like he was ready to laugh. "Those records don't exist." 

"I warned you," Logan said. "Do you remember? On the day she died, I warned you." He could tell that Aaron didn't remember, so he prompted him. "We were sitting in the corridor at the high school waiting to go into the principal's office, and I told you…"

"That you were going to kill me," Aaron said, his voice rich with sarcasm. "Oh, I remember, little man. But I'm still sitting right here."

"There's lots of ways to die, Aaron," Logan said evenly. "You're just too dumb to have figured that out yet."

Aaron laughed at Logan, but his lawyer looked worried.

"And you're right, Mom doesn't have all of the emergency room visits --" Aaron was looking smug -- "at all of the locations we were at over the years, but she has enough." He paused and pulled one file out. "Where you really screwed up is with the plastic surgeon. One rhinoplasty is expected of a movie star's kid, but two? It looks bad, Aaron. Then there's the X-rays. You know, I didn't know that there are certain kind of bone breaks that are always suspicious." He flipped through his charts. "Would you look at that? How interesting!" He exclaimed. "Also, Mom? Had my mostly complete medical file submitted to several doctors who are expert witnesses in child abuse cases. My name was blacked out, of course, but all three doctors came to the same conclusion."

"Child Abuse," Cliff supplied helpfully to Aaron's attorney.

"Blah, blah, blah," Aaron said, "poor widdle Wogan. Maybe Mommy beat you and she was so guilty … she offed herself."

Logan gritted his teeth and tried to stay on track. "Interesting tactic, Aaron, but I don't think that the public will buy that. Besides, you shouldn't have used the same belts over and over. Mom got DNA samples off a bunch of them, and they're all typed and matched with …" he flipped the file open, "Wow! What a surprise! Logan Echolls' blood and skin!" 

Aaron looked like he wanted to strangle Logan.

"Nice murderous glare, Aaron," Logan said, "I'm so glad we're recording this for posterity. Now, what do you think that establishing a propensity for violence will do for your case?"

"The case for murder against your father is extremely circumstantial," Jordan said. "And I doubt that any of this evidence would be allowed into the hearing process."

"Who said anything about the murder case?" Logan asked. "I was thinking that a judge might find Aaron's propensity toward violence really interesting in those attempted murder charges he's got pending. You know, when coupled with the testimony of Trina's ex-boyfriend and Trina's deposition about the beating Aaron gave him."

"Trina would never testify against me," Aaron said heatedly. "My daughter is loyal to me."

"Trina won't have the chance to testify for you," Logan said, "seeing as how she's so busy shooting Wolfgang Pedersen's new epic."

Aaron blinked at Logan, uncomprehending. He shook his head. "Trina?" he asked in disbelief.

"She didn't tell you?" Logan taunted. "How surprising. She'll be off in the Czech Republic for at least the next few weeks, filming a small, but key, part. She might not have a lot of lines, but her character is onscreen for a great deal of time." Logan was really enjoying the chagrin etched on Aaron's features. "It's a real make or break part for her. You should be proud, Aaron! There will still be an Echolls on the silver screen in 2006." 

"Trina …" said Aaron. Logan could see that he was fuming.

"So, I guess she won't be available to testify about how you beat the crap out of her boyfriend because you're such an exemplary father."

"I was defending my family!" Aaron exploded. 

"That's right!" Logan said. "And that's what you were going to say about trying to kill Veronica too, right? That you were just trying to keep her from telling me about how you were fucking my girlfriend? But you see, Aaron, ask your lawyer. I think that defense will lose something when I testify that you've been beating the living shit out of me since I was two years old."

Jordan Lawrence had been furiously taking notes, but he stopped and glanced up at Logan.

"You wouldn't dare," Aaron said. 

"I warned you, Aaron," Logan said. "Maybe I deserved what you did to me, but my mother didn't. Keith Mars sure as hell didn't." He stopped and looked down at the table and continued in a softer voice. "Veronica didn't. Even Lilly didn't deserve that." 

"Lilly," Aaron scoffed and leaned forward to speak.

"Shut up, Aaron," his lawyer said. "What do you want, Logan?"

Logan pointed at Aaron. "He goes to jail," he said clearly and Aaron let out a bellow of outraged disbelief. "Either he pleads guilty to the assaults on Veronica and Keith Mars and does time, or we do it the hard way and I guarantee you that every bit of dirt I have on him will be broadcast on the E! Hollywood True Story by Labor Day. Either way, it is game over. I don't give a fuck." He looked at Aaron, "I might not be able to make you serve time for killing Lilly, but you sure as hell are going to jail for what you did to Veronica."

"You can go fuck yourself, Logan!" Aaron yelled. He stood up and kicked his chair backward, bending over to point at the screen, his face purple with rage. 

"Wow!" Logan exclaimed. "Nice act with the crutches. I actually bought that you needed them."

"This is all about Veronica Mars?" Aaron yelled incredulously. "She turned you in, you dumb shit! And I'll bet she never even opened her legs for you."

Logan clenched his fists under the table as Aaron continued on his rampage. 

"You would sell me out for some pussy that you never even got!?" Aaron stopped and stared at Logan. "Or is this about that other piece of ass? Lilly wasn't that good, Logan." 

"You shut the fuck up about Lilly," Logan said, seething. "She was just a kid."

"Oh, she wanted it," Aaron said, grabbing at his crotch. "She always wanted it, even when she was getting it from you."

"Fine!" Logan said. He leapt up and his chair turned over and smashed onto the ground. "Then I'll release it all!! Your career is over, Aaron, over!! I will make fucking sure of it." He pushed a button on the console and a picture within a picture popped up. In the streaming video, Aaron was having sex with one of Madison's pals in the poolhouse. She looked about fifteen. 

Aaron stopped raving long enough to look at the clip. As Logan watched grimly, a small smile played over Aaron's lips as he admired himself onscreen. 

He heard Cliff give a low whistle next to him. "Wow," he said under his breath.

Aaron looked up at Cliff and grinned, mistaking his utterance for envy.

Logan waved his finger at Aaron's attorney. "See this?" he said to Jordan. "I press one number on this console and it connects right to Katie Couric's private line. She's been after me for weeks for an interview. I will give her the interview of her life." He pointed at Aaron. "He is going to jail."

Aaron picked up his crutch and swung it at the console, but Jordan was surprisingly nimble for a guy in a suit and grabbed it. 

"Be a little reasonable," Jordan urged Logan as Aaron shoved everything off the conference table within his reach and Jordan scrambled to protect the console. Logan could hear the sound of things breaking as Aaron picked up the other crutch and swung it like a baseball bat and lurched out of the camera's view. Jordan had begun to look a little frightened and was holding the first crutch in a protective fashion over his head.

"I don't see why I have to be," Logan said. "After they sedate him, you contact my lawyer and he will dictate my terms. Oh, and tell Aaron not to come home to Neptune after he finishes his 'treatment'." Logan could hear that other people had entered the room and were attempting to corral Aaron and he raised his voice so that Jordan could hear him. "Tell him that if he mentions me again in an interview, other than to say that someday he hopes that I can forgive him for the horrible things that he's done, this deal is fucking off." Aaron was roaring offscreen at the people who were trying to restrain him. "You see what I've been dealing with my whole life?" Logan asked Jordan, who didn't say anything. "No fucking negotiations."

Logan leaned over and disconnected the conference call as Aaron bellowed in the background. 

When the screen went dark, Logan collapsed to his knees, dropping his head down onto his arms atop the conference table and scattering the stack of tapes. He was trembling so violently from the adrenaline rush that his teeth were chattering. 

He dimly felt Cliff pick him up and put him back into his now upright chair, but he couldn't speak, couldn't focus on anything other than stopping the hyperventilation. Cliff went and got him a glass of water, then sat down in the chair next to him while Logan just shook. He turned his face into the crook of his elbow and tried to slow his heart down, beat by beat. 

"Are you all right?" Cliff asked eventually, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I think so," Logan said, his voice muffled against his sleeve. "I think I'm going to be OK now."

"Congratulations, Logan," Cliff said, and Logan turned his head to look at him. "I think you just emancipated yourself." 

Logan smiled.

"An unorthodox method, to be sure, but still … very effective." 

"Kids, don't try this at home," Logan said weakly and laughed, just before he burst into tears.

~*~


	8. Chapter 8

_I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue  
I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue_

_Into the Blue by Moby_

~*~

Logan was surprised to find himself in the parking lot of Neptune High when Ari gave him a nudge to wake him. "You're kidding," he said, as if his eyes had deceived him. "I haven't done that since I was five."

Ari answered with the rare quirk of his lips that passed for a smile. It made him look somehow more saturnine, barely ruffling the smooth line of his close-clipped beard. "I'll take it as a compliment to my driving," he said coolly, "rather than as a testament to your tiredness."

Logan chuckled and pulled the passenger seat up into a sitting position. Now that he was actually back at school, he was in no hurry to go inside the building. He looked around the deserted parking lot for his car. 

"It will be here shortly," Ari said. "Unless you'd like me to wait."

"No, thank you," Logan said quietly. He continued on in a hesitant tone. "The thing is, I don't know if you work for the Echolls' family anymore." He paused. "I did something this morning, and I don't know what Aaron is going to do because of it."

Ari nodded. "Gavin would never allow us to leave until there was somebody else to protect the house and its occupants," he said. "Also, you could just hire us yourself."

Logan snapped his head up in surprise, but could only see his stunned expression reflected in the smooth black of Ari's sunglasses. "You'd stay?" 

Ari quirked an eyebrow above the rims and ignored his overeager question, "The security codes for the house were changed this morning."

"Thanks, Ari," Logan murmured. "I didn't think of that. What are they?"

"Your birthdate," Ari answered, "without the year, and today's date. Don't forget the zeroes."

"Are you spying on me, Ari?" Logan teased.

"I believe that you're running a bit late for your appointment with Ms. James," was all he said. 

Logan was smiling as he exited the car, slinging the backpack over his shoulder, but the closer he got to the building, the more the spring in his steps lessened. In fact, his steps slowed down as he got to the door. It really was weird being back at Neptune High, almost surreal. For the first time, he actually wondered how in the hell he was going to endure senior year. 

The empty hallways were filled with memories, but Logan felt like they had all taken place ages ago, like he was looking at the familiar walls from the far distance of a ten year absence, not mere weeks. Nothing about his life was the same, but nothing was different here at Neptune High. He walked down the echoing hallway, looking at the scoured lockers with their scars of keycuts and faded ink stains. How was he supposed to return to the world of Pirate Points, and school dances? What would he talk to people about? Who would he even talk to? He shook his head in chagrin, turning the corner toward Ms. James office. Her door was ajar, but he knocked on the frame. 

"Logan?" she called from inside.

"Yeah," he answered and pushed the door open. Ms. James was wearing jeans and filing. 

"Oh, good," she said, "I was starting to wonder if you'd blown me off."

"No," Logan said, "I, uh, just had some other appointments."

Ms. James was looking at him in that assessing way of hers. "Why don't you close the door, Logan?" She sat down at her desk

He did so, and sat down reluctantly. Over the weeks, he'd actually had a couple of decent conversations with Ms. James, but being back her in her office was very off-putting and he couldn't help but wonder …

"Your, uh, friend Ari sent people over this morning to check out my office."

Logan knew he shouldn't have been, but he was surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. James," he began.

She raised a hand. "Not as sorry as I am, Logan. Your security people found two listening devices in my office." Ms. James seemed infuriated.

"Two?" Logan asked. Veronica had admitted to him that she'd bugged Ms. James office, but …

"Yep," Ms. James said. She picked up a stapler. "One was in this stapler, and the other … was in a light fixture."

Logan blew out in exasperation. He was pretty sure that Duncan's family was responsible for the other bug, because if Ari had put it in, he never would have yanked it, and if his mom had put it in, Logan would already have known about it. Logan shook his head. "I'm really sorry, Ms. James."

"I don't see what you have to do with it, Logan," she said, "unless you know something about this."

"I can guess," Logan said, "but I didn't have anything to do with it. I'm just sorry. I know you must feel disillusioned."

Ms. James just stared at him for a moment. "Wow, Logan. That's either a very mature or a supremely cynical response."

Logan shrugged. "At my house, people have been trying to pay off everybody from the gardener on up since Lilly was killed. It died down after Abel Koontz was arrested, but since Aaron …" Logan waved his hand around, "Ari's had to put dampening devices around the house so that our phone transmissions wouldn't be recorded. We had to disable our wireless internet network. I don't know how many times the garbage has been stolen."

Ms. James looked stunned.

"I mean, my own sister sold pictures of me swimming naked in our pool to The National Enquirer," Logan said. "She got a quarter of a million bucks so that the world could get a blurry look at my wang."

Ms. James' mouth was literally hanging open.

"I hear the real thing is available on the internet as a premium download," he said sarcastically, "but I haven't Googled it yet to see how popular it is." He took in a breath. "I guess what I'm saying is that I was born into this circus, and it just got worse, you know? After Lilly." He paused. "But I'm sorry that people that had nothing to do with this, you know, normal people like you, got all swept up in it."

"Do you think the tabloids bugged my office?" Ms. James asked him. She looked absolutely furious at the idea.

"No," Logan said. "I think your office was bugged all last year."

"By whom?" she demanded.

Logan sighed. "This is only my theory," he said, "but, um, Duncan's family thought that he'd killed Lilly. I mean, you know, that's why they did what they did." Ms. James nodded at him, and he could see that she'd already figured out where he was going. "I don't imagine that they were too happy about you counseling Duncan."

Ms. James looked down at the surface of her desk and didn't say anything for a long time. "Logan," she said, looking up, "if you don't mind me saying so, you seem very, very calm about everything that's happened."

"I'm not on drugs," Logan said, "if that's what you're asking me."

"What I'm really wondering is how are you coping with all of this?" she asked earnestly. "Among other things, you just told me that another member of your family betrayed you."

Logan nodded and leaned forward, putting his elbow on his knees. "Yeah, but see, the thing is, I never expected them to protect me."

"Not even your mother?" Ms. James asked softly.

"Not really," Logan answered gruffly. "She, um, she gave up a long time ago." 

Ms. James was silent for a minute. "So who protects you?" 

Veronica was the first thought that came to mind, but Logan knew that was more something he wanted to be true than fact. "I guess I decided I have to," Logan said. He was looking at his feet. 

When he looked up at Ms. James, he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that, Logan," she said. "I think that you're a lot stronger than most people realize."

He shrugged. 

"I want you to know that I'm very proud of you," Ms. James said.

Logan felt himself flushing as he listened to the unaccustomed words of praise.

"You finished all of your schoolwork, and there was nobody there to tell you that you had to do it. It took discipline and focus and you did a really good job. I know that you've struggled with depression," Logan looked up at her, "and I wish that I'd been able to help you more – I wish there was somebody that you could count on, but … you've really done very well on your own."

Logan nodded, unsure of what to say. 

"What are you going to do this summer?" Ms. James asked.

"I don't know," Logan answered, after a long moment of silence. "I … I just don't know." He fell silent again, unsure of how to explain to Ms. James that he'd only focused on getting to today, on getting through today. "I guess staying out of the Enquirer seems like a stupid goal."

Ms. James laughed, and after a moment of surprise, Logan joined her. 

"Logan, I think that's a wonderful goal." Ms. James handed him a folder. "These are your grades for the year. They're still provisional. Your last assignments," Logan hastily handed her a folder from his backpack, "will have to be factored in, but … congratulations! You're a senior."

Logan snorted. 

"Kinda anticlimactic?" Ms. James asked.

"Yeah." Logan said shortly. "Kinda."

She smiled sympathetically. "Behind your grades there are some college choices that you should think about. I went beyond what you asked me for."

Logan shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "It all just seems so …"

"Normal," Ms. James supplied.

"I don't think I know how to be normal," Logan confessed, looking at the folder. There were pamphlets for Columbia, Duke and Northwestern, aside from schools in New Zealand and Australia.

"Logan," Ms. James said, "do not let other people make your choices for you. This is your life. You can decide how it's going to be."

Logan looked up from the file at Ms. James, surprised at hearing the echo of his own thoughts said aloud. "Yeah," he agreed. 

~*~

_To: Surf_dog_logan@gmail.com  
From: PI_Pride@gmail.com_

_I miss you._

~*~

Logan walked out of Ms. James' office and back into Neptune's familiar but strange hallways and felt the same sense of dislocation that he'd felt walking into the building. Maybe he should just get his G.E.D. and screw senior year. Who was he anymore? All of the pieces of his high school identity had been shattered around his feet in the past two months. He wasn't Logan Echolls, King of the 09ers, the son of movie stars and the boyfriend of the doomed Queen of the 09ers. His mother had killed herself, laying waste to the notion of her glamorous life. As for Aaron, Logan had meant what he promised earlier in the day: either Aaron went to jail, or Logan would ruin him. 

And, of course, depending upon which tabloid you chose to read, Logan was either a casualty of his father's cuckoldry or his partner in crime in some warped sex triangle. The fragments of his own history could be distorted to fit any lens. Lilly's reputation had undergone a similar permutation. He doubted that anyone would remember her as the lost Queen of 09er society any more – instead, she'd be seen as either a slut or a victim – her crown permanently tarnished in ways that would have infuriated her. And he wasn't Duncan Kane's best friend, or Veronica's pal or her tormentor or her boyfriend. 

The question was, just who in the hell was he?

Logan was so deep in his own thoughts that he failed to notice that he wasn't alone. Just as he realized that someone was approaching him, he heard the footsteps stop. 

He looked up and Duncan Kane was standing there. 

"Hmmph …" Logan said aloud, but he kept on walking. Duncan had a folder in his hands, so it seemed that Logan wasn't the only one who'd missed a lot of the last semester.

When he had passed Duncan completely, he heard him say. "That's it? That's all I get, Logan?"

Logan turned around and Duncan was standing there expectantly. Logan sighed. After his exhausting meeting with Aaron, seeing Duncan was just like one ending too many, sort of like in that last _Lord of the Rings_ movie. Logan was tired, and he wanted to get to the real end, the expected end, of his long, long day. 

Of course, the perverse imp that lived in his brain took over his tongue anyway. "Are you talking to me? I mean, I was under the impression that I was persona non grata, what with the unanswered e-mails and the lack of returned phone calls."

"Like you've got a leg to stand on," Duncan said. "That was all before…" Duncan gestured vaguely. "You haven't been around for weeks. You've been ignoring everyone." Duncan paused, then added, "Including Veronica –- she's been very upset about it." 

Logan laughed, since it was clear _that_ irked Duncan. "C'mon, are you honestly going to pretend that you really give a fuck about Veronica's feelings now?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Duncan said hotly and stepped forward. "I have always cared about Veronica! I've always loved Veronica!"

"Oh, you're such a hero, Duncan." 

"Where do you fucking get off?" Duncan began.

"She told me, Duncan," Logan interrupted. "She told me all of it."

Duncan looked at Logan with a wary expression on his face, then moved toward him angrily. "What are you talking about?"

"Your father, her mother. How you thought she was your sister. Beautiful story, by the way."

"Fuck you," Duncan said, but he stopped moving toward Logan and began to shift uncomfortably back and forth from foot-to-foot. "It isn't true."

"Yeah," Logan said. "But you didn't bother to tell her, or me, what was going on. Very brotherly of you," he observed and turned to walk away.

"Don't you put your guilt on me!" Duncan yelled, and pulled on Logan's arm trying to spin him around, but Logan planted his feet and they grappled until Duncan was standing in front of him, blocking his path. "You weren't her friend! You were the one who treated her like she was dog shit on the bottom of your shoe!"

"Yeah, I was," Logan said right into Duncan's face. "But at least I didn't take her virginity one night and then pretend like it never happened for a year and a half."

"It wasn't like that," Duncan said through clenched teeth, his chest heaving into Logan's. "And you oughta know that, since _she_ told _me_ that _you_ fucking drugged me."

"Yeah, I did," Logan said and he pushed Duncan backwards with the weight of his body. "But you remembered _exactly_ what happened that night, right?"

"So?" Duncan answered hostilely.

"So, I guess you can't really say that it was _my_ fault, can you?" He stepped into Duncan again, his voice tight with anger. "You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you did it anyway." 

"I was on drugs!" Duncan said in exasperation.

"Were you on drugs the next morning when you left her there, all alone?" Logan asked. "You know that she thought she'd been raped, right? I mean, she did tell you that, didn't she?" 

Duncan stared at him. "It was a lie," he said softly, but heatedly. "She doesn't blame me."

"Well," Logan said, "bully for you. But don't you fucking pretend like you didn't do something wrong."

"It's none of your business, Logan," Duncan said. "That's between me and Veronica."

"Oh, please, Duncan," Logan said, "it was my shoulder that she cried on."

"Yeah, what about that?" Duncan said, pushing forward again. "What about the fact that she was my girlfriend first?"

"What, are you gonna pee in a circle around her?" Logan crowed incredulously. "You think you deserve her after what you did?"

"And you deserve her?" Duncan matched his tone. "After everything you did to her?"

"You're right, Duncan," Logan said. "I was a total jackass to Veronica."

"Yes, you were," Duncan said.

"And you were standing right next to me almost every time that I was," Logan said. "Now let me see if I can count all the times that you told me to lay off or to leave Veronica alone." He acted like he was thinking about it and Duncan shoved him backward. 

"Oh, right," Duncan said, "now I'm responsible for you treating her like dirt."

"You want to hear my theory about that, Donut?" Logan sneered.

"Don't fucking call me that!" Duncan snapped and pushed back against Logan.

"My theory is that you let _me_ punish her because _you_ felt guilty about what you'd done." Logan rushed on over Duncan's objections. "Oh yeah, and I did it, I admit it. Because I was just twisted enough to think that I was being loyal to you and to your _other_ sister." 

Duncan took a breath in and a step back at Logan's words, but Logan followed him. "But you know what I keep thinking about, Duncan? Trina. I have never gotten along with her. Never. But would I let some jerk talk trash to her the way I did to Veronica?" He paused. "Nope. Not even I would let that happen, and I'm an asshole." He pushed hard against Duncan. "So, now, the question you have to ask yourself is -- what does that make you?"

He shoved his way past Duncan. 

"It wasn't my fault," Duncan repeated, trying to circle back in front of Logan and grabbing at his arm as Logan moved past him.

"Nothing is ever your fault, Duncan," Logan said, turning back to look Duncan in the eye. "That's why you'll make an excellent politician."

Mr. Clemmons appeared behind Duncan's shoulder. "Gentlemen, is there a problem?"

"Not on my end," Logan said. "I'm through." He pulled his arm out of Duncan's grasp and walked away.

~*~


	9. Chapter 9

_I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue  
I am wide open  
Reaching forever  
I fly into the blue_

_Into the Blue by Moby_

 

~*~

By the time Logan pulled into the parking lot at Dog Beach, the sky had become overcast and the wind had picked up. A few surfers were out trying to get a good ride amidst the white caps, but the beach was surprisingly empty for the Friday of a long Fourth of July weekend. Logan pulled into a space where he hoped his XTerra just looked like any other surfer's ride and shut the engine off. He wasn't surprised that he felt anxious about being here again. The last time he'd been here had been not only the last time that he'd seen or talked to Veronica, but also one of the worst days of his life. What was surprising was how hard it was going to be to just step out of the car. After nearly two months of isolation, he felt exposed by the vast space of the world outside, awed by the size of the ocean and the blue water that he used to jump into without giving it much thought. Everything seemed large and open, and he felt small and unsure by contrast.

But he hadn't done all of this, hadn't worked this hard to free himself of Aaron so that he could sit in his car and stare at Veronica Mars through the windshield, like she was still just an image on his TV screen. It was time. He opened the door and stepped outside and the gust of wind that came up off the water smelled of salt and freedom. He closed the door and looked up to the grey sky, only to notice that there were glimpses of blue between the clouds. It was warm. It was summertime. And he was free.

Veronica was sitting on the beach, staring out at the water. Her hair was in pigtails, and she had a ball cap pulled low over her brow. He could see the small of her back where her skin peeked out between the hem of her pale pink t-shirt and the top of her jeans. She was curled up into herself, her arms around her legs, her chin atop her knees. Backup sat by her feet. When Logan had first arrived, Backup had been looking expectantly from Veronica to the toy he'd dropped in the sand, but she hadn't taken the hint. Eventually, Backup had given up and lain down.

Logan hesitated as he crossed the stretch of beach. Not only was he unsure of how he should begin, but he was also anticipating that Duncan was right and that Veronica would be unhappy to see him -- that he'd waited too long and hurt her too much. He wondered if he'd be better off just going home and calling her. At least that way he wouldn't have to be looking her in the eye when she rejected him. He stopped altogether and stood there, as yet undetected, looking out beyond Veronica to the water that was all the shades of blue in her eyes and wished for courage, or at least inspiration. 

He smoothed down his shirt after a gusty breeze, feeling the pad of her e-mails resting over his heart. He walked closer to her and Backup and pulled out his phone, finally letting his thumb make the connection to her that he'd been aching for, for so long. It was the coward's way to go, and he knew it, but the fact that she didn't know he was there allowed him to watch while she fumbled in her bag for her phone. When she saw the number on the display screen, he was close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath as she clicked through to answer, starting to stand as she brought the phone up to her head. 

"I miss you," Logan said from behind her, not bothering to speak into his phone. 

Veronica whirled around while Backup whuffed in greeting and then began to bark. There were tears in her eyes, and dark circles underneath them. She was smiling at him, but she kind of looked like she wanted to punch him at the same time.

"I miss you, too," he said, feeling overwhelmed because it had been so long since he'd seen her, and she was more beautiful than he remembered. He choked when he tried to say her name because he was tired and he was crying, but mostly because the expression on her face was breaking his heart, "Veronica."

Before he even finished saying her name aloud, Veronica had crossed the distance between then and stretched up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck like she was afraid he would vanish. Her ball cap smashed into his jaw like the punch he probably deserved and was knocked off her head as she buried her face against his neck. Logan took in a gasping breath of air and finally, finally wrapped his arms around her, shocked into reality by the feel of her, small and strong, pressed against him. The sand shifted underneath them as he held her as tight as he could and he almost lost his footing. Reflexively, he straightened up and pulled her closer, trying to surf the shifting sand. When he realized, as she let him lift her away from the ground, that she trusted him to carry her weight, something inside of him broke wide open. He could feel her sobbing against his neck as he cried all over her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he said over and over, while Backup barked and ran in circles around them.

"No," she protested, "no, I'm sorry." She looked up at him and her mascara was running. 

Her lips tasted like tears when she kissed him and the shock of her soft mouth on his was so intense that he was momentarily dizzy. He sat down hard in the sand, but Veronica just followed him down, folding up into his lap and holding his head in her hands, still kissing him. 

"I should have told you I came back," Logan said desperately, his words cut up between kisses. His hands were roaming from her head, to her back, down her legs, pulling her in closer, tighter, making sure that she was real. "I didn't think it mattered."

"I know," she said, "I'm sorry I couldn't trust you, but Logan …"

"No, it's OK," he said. "It just hurt so much and I never thought about …"

"I know," she said, "I just wish I figured it out before …" 

"No," he said fiercely, "you did figure it out! You were the only one who really tried …"

"I'm sorry," she whispered between kisses, stroking his face. "I don't know why I never saw what he …"

"He's an actor, Veronica," Logan said in exasperation and broke away, "that's like getting a Ph.D. in lying." 

"I should have seen it," she insisted, "I could have stopped ..."

"I didn't want you anywhere near him!" He hadn't realized he was yelling until he saw the hurt expression flash across Veronica's face. "That's not what I meant," he said urgently and ran his hands up her thighs to her hips to get her attention, to reassure her that he knew that she was not Lilly. "I just …" Veronica eyes had been downcast, but she looked up at him when he caressed her. "Look at what he did to you," he whispered touching her brow, on the verge of tears again. 

Veronica's eyes widened and she put her hand over his and held onto it. "I'm OK," she reassured him, "I'm OK." She leaned forward and kissed him, pushing him gently onto his back in the sand. Logan wrapped his arms around her while he tried to get control of his breathing, and his imagination. 

After a while, she sat up again and took hold of his hands. "But Logan," she began again, "the way that you feel about what he did to me? That's how I feel when I think about all of the things that I _know_ he did to you."

Logan shook his head, "None of that matters," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong, and he hurt you."

Veronica stared at him. "Meaning you think you did something wrong?" she asked. "You didn't do anything to deserve that, Logan," she said firmly.

"That's not exactly true," Logan answered, "and it's beside the point. I just don't want him anywhere near you."

"It's not beside the point," Veronica insisted, as tears began to roll down her face. "People aren't allowed to beat their kids, even when they _are_ being bad, and I wish that I had known because I would have _helped_ you." She paused and got control over her voice. "My dad would have helped you, Logan."

"I didn't want anybody to see it," he admitted. "I did everything I could think of so that nobody would find out about it. I just …" Logan shrugged and glanced up at Veronica, hoping that he wouldn't actually have to admit that he was ashamed out loud. He could see that she understood what he wasn't saying. "Besides, it wasn't the only thing that nobody saw." He used the tail of his over shirt to wipe her face.

Veronica looked stricken at his oblique mention of Lilly. "I don't know what she was thinking," she whispered, then leaned forward and buried her face in his neck again. "I've been so worried about you." 

"I'm OK," he reassured her. "I'm OK now." He rubbed her back while she shivered, then yelped as she bit him. "What the …?"

Veronica sat back a little, bracing her arms around his head in the sand. "Weevil told me all about the bridge," she said in her pissed off voice. 

"Oh," was all he said.

"Oh?" she said sarcastically. "That's all you got?"

Logan smoothed one hand up her back, running it under her shirt so he could touch her warm, sweet skin while he looked at her. Her pigtails were lopsided and half falling out. She was flushed from crying and had a smear of mascara under her right eye. Her eyes were snapping with exasperation and affection and he wanted to sink right into their blue depths and never come up for air again. He pulled one pigtail out and flung the elastic away. They'd probably find it when they went to dig out their phones later.

"Logan …" Veronica warned as he gently combed out her mussed hair with his fingers.

He reached up and used his thumb to clear the smudge away. 

"It's getting long again," he said to her conversationally. He knew he was smiling, and he could tell it was irritating her.

"Logan!" She pushed against his chest and her e-mails crinkled. While she was investigating what he had in his pocket, he pulled out the other elastic and fanned her hair out across her shoulders. He sat up, keeping her in the circle of his arms and on his lap as he kissed her neck, her cheek, the small scar on her forehead that was new.

"Logan …" she said in a teary voice when she recognized her e-mails. 

He kissed her until they were both breathless, both of his hands open and sliding up under her shirt. "I really did miss you," he said, rubbing his thumbs against her belly while his hands encircled her ribs.

"Then what were you doing?" Veronica asked in exasperation. She carefully folded up the e-mails and placed them back in his pocket. When she laid her hand over his heart and looked up at him, he smiled and fell backwards into the sand, taking her with him and stealing a kiss along the way. 

"You might not like it," he admitted, "but I was trying to be smart for once in my life. Well, partly."

Veronica propped herself up on one elbow, and looked at him, her brows drawn down in confusion. 

"Because I was also being an asshole. At first." 

"Just at first?" Veronica asked archly. 

"I promise I'll explain everything," he said, feeling slightly nervous again, "but not here. Come with me? It's the kind of story that requires visual aids, and probably a flow chart."

Veronica stared at him, and he could feel her withdrawing a little. "How about you just try it with words first?" 

Logan sighed, and tried to make himself focus. His hesitancy about being out in the open again had reappeared, and he felt vulnerable and exposed. "I'm not sure it's the kind of thing that I should be talking about in public," he said.

"Fine," Veronica said tightly, and lifted herself off him, but he caught her and pulled her back down next to him, feeling her resistance.

"Don't go," he pleaded, and waited until he felt her relax a bit.

Veronica drew back and asked him solemnly. "Then answer my question, Logan: What about the bridge?" 

"I'm not that stupid anymore," he insisted. 

He leaned in to kiss Veronica but she drew back from him, her blue eyes wide and sad. 

"I promise," he said. 

Veronica studied his face and Logan could see her struggling to believe him, to move beyond all of the lies and the ways that they had managed to wound each other. 

"I promise," he repeated and she moved a little closer to him, her hand coming up to trace his jaw line. 

"I promise," he whispered, as her lips curved into a smile just before she kissed him. 

"I promise," he said when they came up for air, but she placed her finger against his mouth.

"I believe you," she said, and he kissed her so fast that she didn't have time to get her finger out from between their lips and they were laughing more than they were kissing. "But … I don't think I'm asking for too much here, Logan," Veronica said. "It's been two months without so much as a word from you. I just want an explanation."

Logan nodded, and Backup chose that moment to come back and drop Veronica's drool-covered baseball cap and himself, next to them in the sand. "Good boy," he said absently to Backup and patted his head.

"What's the problem?" Veronica asked.

"I'm afraid you're going to be angry," Logan said. "I did some things that I'm not sure you're going to be happy about."

Veronica was staring at him. He could practically hear her trying to figure out what he was talking about, and he realized he was just making it worse. 

"OK," he began, lying back in the sand. "Remember when my mom hired the other PIs to follow Aaron?"

"The ones who took the photos that ended up in the tabloids?" Veronica asked. 

He nodded.

"Yeah," she said, with some exasperation in her tone, "I remember them."

"It turns out that the photos weren't the only thing that they did for her," he said, and continued off her querying look. "You weren't the only one who found the cameras in the pool house."

"Your _mom_ found the cameras?" Veronica's tone was disbelieving, and almost as soon as the words left her mouth, she blinked and said, "Oh Logan! I didn't mean it that way!"

"Yeah, you did," Logan said, "but it's OK. No, she didn't find them. She hired them to do surveillance and told them that one of the places that Aaron was having his trysts was in the pool house. Vince found the cameras."

"Your mother hired Vinnie Van Lowe!" Veronica's voice was full of outraged contempt; it was clear she considered this to be a professional insult.

Logan chuckled at her and then hastened to add, "No, no. My mom hired a guy that used to work for Anthony Pellicano."

Veronica's eyes widened. "Anthony Pellicano, Anthony Pellicano?" 

"The wiretap king," he said, nodding.

"Wow," Veronica said. "That's pretty hardcore.

Logan nodded. "Vince found the cameras and added two more to them." Before Veronica could ask he said, "in the bookcase and opposite the bed. And then he pulled the feed from the cameras and adapted my mother's TiVo to record everything that happened in the pool house. He made the cameras motion-activated and …"

"I take it back," Veronica said. "That's totally hardcore."

Logan nodded and propped himself up on two elbows. 

"So, she was getting ready to divorce your … Aaron," Veronica corrected herself.

"I don't think so," Logan said.

Veronica looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Logan sighed, "I think that my mom thought that if she embarrassed him in public with the tabloid pictures, and then confronted him with what she had on him, that she could make him stop."

Veronica didn't say anything, but her eyes were wide and sad.

"Yeah, I know," Logan said. "My mom wasn't realistic about a lot of things." He flopped back down and Veronica stretched out on her side next to him. "On the day she died, she told him that she just wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt her. And I think that was true." 

He wondered if Veronica was aware of the way she was rubbing his chest in an attempt to soothe him. He stared up at overcast sky, and finally said, "Vince told me that when they showed her everything they had on Aaron that my mom seemed really sad. That when he told her they had enough dirt on him to guarantee that Aaron would have to give her a really big divorce settlement, that she seemed shocked." Logan was silent for a minute. "I'll never understand it," he admitted, "but I think that, despite everything, she still wanted him to love her."

Veronica made a dismayed noise, but she didn't say anything, just laid her head down on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Logan knew that she probably had her own opinions about his mom, but he was grateful that she wasn't sharing them.

Eventually, Veronica raised her head to ask him the question he'd been waiting for, "Logan, did your mom tape …"

"No," he said, lifting his own head up to look her in the eye. He touched her cheek. "She seemed to have gotten really suspicious around the time that Lilly was killed, but … she didn't get the cameras installed until after."

"Do you think she knew about Lilly?" Veronica asked solemnly. 

"I don't know," Logan said, with a sigh. "If she ever said anything to Vince about it, he wouldn't tell me. But basically, there's no evidence that my mother had that will help the case against Aaron."

Veronica's face fell a little, but then she looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Logan," Veronica said. "I had to ask. Old habits …" 

He nodded. "Don't apologize," he said, "I won't ask you not to love Lilly."

Veronica's eyes shone with tears. "But you don't love her anymore," she said in a whisper and hid her face against his chest.

Logan sighed and dropped his head back down into the sand, rubbing her back. "It's not that simple, Veronica," he said. "I mean, I loved _my_ Lilly, but I'm not sure that I didn't just make her up, you know?"

"I'm sor --" she started to say, but stopped herself at the expression on his face. "Are you going to give the tapes to the District Attorney?" 

Logan sighed and sat up. "This is the part that I don't think you're going to like," he said.

"Try me," Veronica replied.

"Do you remember when I said that I was being an asshole?"

"I've been waiting for it," Veronica muttered, as she sat up.

Logan laughed. "Is that your favorite part of stories about me?" 

Veronica arched an eyebrow, "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?"

Logan smiled. "Maybe," he admitted, and started to make another joke, but caught himself when he looked at Veronica's face. He held out his hands to her. When she took them, he tugged her gently back into his lap. "OK," he began, "I was really mad at you."

"I kinda figured that out," Veronica said dryly.

"At first, when I wouldn't answer your calls it was because of that."

"OK."

Logan was really feeling nervous despite his best efforts to maintain control. "Then, I found the TiVo that was hooked up to the pool house cameras."

"Uh huh," Veronica said, clearly perplexed as to where this conversation was going.

"And, um … we're on the TiVo," Logan said.

Veronica stared at him, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. "Motion activated," she said under her breath.

"Yeah," Logan said. 

"OK," Veronica said. "You don't want to give the tapes to the DA because we're on them?"

"Partly," Logan said. "Do you remember that night?"

Veronica looked insulted. "I'm not particularly proud of having run away, but my memory is just fine, Logan."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Logan said. "We talked, in real detail, about what happened at Shelley's party."

Veronica nodded. "You talked about the GHB."

Logan shook his head, "This isn't about that kind of self-preservation, Veronica," he said. "But it is about being selfish. Too many private things in my life have ended up being topics of conversation that strangers talk about on the news, or on the internet, you know?"

Veronica nodded slowly.

"I don't want anyone seeing that tape. What happened that night was just between the two of us, and I want to keep it that way." Logan paused. "I don't think even you can understand how important finding that on my mom's TiVo was." 

"Try me, Logan," Veronica said again.

"I, um, was so mad that I had convinced myself that you didn't care about me," Logan said slowly.

"And the tape changed your mind?"

"Watching you find the cameras changed my mind," Logan said. "I had to kind of face the fact that I gave you every reason not to trust me."

"OK," Veronica said slowly, "but I still don't see where you're going with this."

Logan nodded and tried to gather his thoughts. "I don't think Aaron will ever be convicted of Lilly's murder," he said, watching Veronica carefully. She looked stricken at his pronouncement. "And I think that he would do everything in his power to make sure that he won't be found guilty of hurting you and your dad," he added.

Veronica's body was stiff with tension on his legs.

"If Aaron can get in front of a jury, he can convince them that _you_ are the one who is lying," Logan continued, as Veronica opened her mouth to protest. "Please just let me finish," he said, "please. And there's another thing, and it's a big thing." He paused. "It's a selfish thing. I can't live with him, Veronica." Veronica took in a surprised breath and nodded. "I can't."

"I'm afraid of what he'll do to you," she whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"I think that one of us will end up dead," he agreed, and Veronica stared at him in shock.

"Logan …" she said.

"Like father …" he began, and she shook her head. 

"No, Logan," she said firmly.

He shrugged. "The point is, I can't live with him, and I can't let him get away with this. He's gotten away with so much, Veronica."

Veronica was silent, but he could see that she agreed with him.

"I meant what I said about wanting to protect you," Logan said. "So, this morning, Cliff and I met with Aaron. I told him that if he doesn't plead guilty to assaulting you and your dad, I'll destroy him." 

"How?" Veronica asked quietly.

"I can show you what I have," Logan said, "The tapes of him from the pool house. My medical records." He could see that Veronica was surprised, but she didn't say anything. "I told him that I'll testify about what he did to me if he doesn't plead guilty to the assaults on you and your dad."

"I'm sorry, Logan," Veronica said after a long pause. She continued before he could chastise her. "It's just … it's all so wrong."

"It's the way it is," Logan said. "I can't change it, but I can't let him walk away from this. Is blackmail still a crime if you're doing it for the right reason?" he asked flippantly.

Veronica's only answer was to hug him fiercely.

"Come with me," he said into her shoulder. "And I'll show you everything."

When they broke apart, she slid off his lap, sitting back on her heels in front of him. Her fingers traced his jaw where the hard brim of her ball cap had smacked into him. 

"Love hurts, Veronica Mars," he intoned sagely.

"Not today," she whispered and kissed him where his jaw still ached a little.

Logan smiled as he nodded in agreement, then kissed her before he stood up and extended a hand down to her. "Come with me?" he asked again, and this time, she took his hand and let him pull her up. He couldn't resist kissing her one more time out of relief and happiness.

"So," Veronica said, as she tried to get an excited Backup back on his leash and Logan found their phones and Veronica's left shoe, "is, um, Trina at your house?"

Logan laughed and tucked Veronica's gritty, funky ball cap into the outer pocket on the leg of his pants as she shot him a grateful look. "Oh, that's a whole other story," he said.

They were almost to the parking lot when Veronica asked innocently, "So, are there naked pictures with this 'other story'?" 

Logan groaned. "Since when do you read the Enquirer?!" 

Veronica pursed her lips, "Oh, I think you're really kidding yourself if you think that those pictures were only in that paper," she teased.

Logan gritted his teeth in exasperation as Veronica bumped up against him in a hip check. 

"Besides, according to most of the female population of Neptune High," she paused dramatically, and lowered her voice, "and approximately 10% of the male population, you have no reason whatsoever to be embarrassed."

"I am definitely, seriously considering getting a GED," Logan said. He was reasonably certain that you could cook a steak on the back of his flaming neck, not to mention his cheeks.

"Aww … Logan …" Veronica teased, her eyes sparkling. "All right, new topic: Would you care to explain the phone thing from earlier?"

"Uh …" Logan scrambled, "you had me at hello?" 

She rolled her eyes at him. "Uh huh. You've been at home mainlining American Movie Classics, haven't you?"

"A man's got to do what a man's got to do," Logan said with a swagger, unlocking the car doors remotely.

"Show me the money," Veronica challenged. 

Logan grabbed her and kissed her, pressing her against the passenger side of his car. "According to what you said, you've already seen the 'money'" he whispered in her ear, then stood back and let Backup in the car. 

He was gratified to see that he wasn't the only one who blushed in this relationship as he sauntered around the front of his car to the driver's side.

The sight of Veronica Mars sitting in the passenger seat of his car made him happier than he could even express to her, so he leaned across the console between the seats and kissed her.

"What?" she asked him, after they broke apart.

"Ready to drive off into the sunset?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow while Backup whined and settled down in the backseat.

"Oh, right," Veronica scoffed.

Logan smiled and said, "Well, my dear Chief Inspector, even you cannot deny that a) it is sunset, b) we are in the car, and c) we are getting ready to drive away."

Veronica shook her head at him in consternation. "C'mon, Logan, no one's going to buy the Hollywood ending for us -- honestly," she shrugged, dismissing the idea and turning to look out her window.

Logan reached over and tugged on her hand until she turned back to him, then he leaned in and kissed her gently. He pulled away and looked into her blue eyes. "You've just described every great success story," he quoted.

Veronica stared at him. She appeared to be taking the measure of his sincerity, while he just sat there and waited until she'd made up her mind. After a moment, Veronica tilted her head to the side and her lips turned up in a slow, sweet smile. She nodded once. 

Logan leaned over and kissed her, trying to pour all of the love and gratitude that he felt into it. When he drew back, he pressed a kiss into the center of her palm before he placed Veronica's hand back on the console between them. He pulled the sunglasses down from his visor and slipped them on, peeking at Veronica over the rims.

"Showtime," Logan said, and Veronica's laughter filled the car. He grinned at her, then he put the car in gear, and they drove away. 

~*~

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this story is dedicated to my sister, Suzanne_Laura, for all of her love, hand-holding and critical editorial support.


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